K 


BS  2615  .F73  I914 


Foulkes,  Willi 


3m  Hiram,  137 


living  bread  from  th^   r. 
GosDei  ^^®  Fourt 


LIVING   BREAD 

FROM   THE   FOURTH    GOSPEL 
BY 

Rev.  WILLIAM  HIRAM  FOULKES,  D.D. 


COPYRIGHT,     I914 
BY    WILLIAM    HIRAM    FOULKES 


THE  BIBLE  TEXT  USED  IN  THIS  VOLUME  IS  THAT  OF  THE  AMERICAN 
STANDARD  EDITION  OF  THE  REVISED  BIBLE,  COPYRIGHT,  IQOI, 
BY     THOMAS      NELSON      &      SONS,      AND      IS      USED      BY     PERMISSION 


TO  MY   SAINTED 

MOTHER 

WHO   EARLY  TAUGHT  ME  THE  WORD   OF  GOD 
I  DEDICATE  THIS   BOOK 


"Lord,  evermore  give  us  this  bread."  —  John  6  :  34. 


INTRODUCTION 


AM  indebted  to  my  wife  for  the  impulse  which 
has  led  to  the  preparation  and  publication  of 
this  devotional  study  of  the  Fourth  Gospel. 
"^  For  many  years  she  has  found  blessing  in 
the  daily  study  of  the  Word  of  God,  under  the 
guidance  of  some  simple  devotional  commentary. 
Spurgeon's  "Cheque  Book  Upon  the  Bank  of 
Faith"  is  a  commentary  that  has  given  her 
peculiar  profit. 

For  some  time,  instead  of  reading  the  Bible  at 
random,  we  have  been  studying  it  together  in 
connected  portions.  The  Fourth  Gospel  brought 
such  a  wealth  of  spiritual  refreshment  to  us  that 
I  was  led  to  prepare  in  form  suitable  for  publica- 
tion the  meditations  that  have  been  a  part  of  our 
Christian  experience. 

The  method  of  this  study,  as  will  be  seen,  is  that 
of  taking  verses,  in  consecutive  order,  one  for  each 
day  of  the  year,  followed  by  a  short  exegetical  and 
devotional  comment  and  a  brief  prayer.  Many 
equally  important  and  fruitful  verses  have  been 
omitted,  it  is  true.  It  should  be  stated,  however, 
that  without  mechanical  selection  or  arrangement 
of-'the  texts,  the  Gospel  record  exactly  covered 
the  year. 

I  am  also  greatly  indebted  to  my  friend,  Charles 
Gorman  Richards,  D.D.,  of  Auburn,  New  York, 
who  has  generously  reviewed  the  manuscript  of 
the  book. 


INTRODUCTION 


This  one  more  of  the  "many  books"  about  the 
things  that  Jesus  said  and  did,  is  sent  upon  its 
untried  way,  with  the  author's  prayer  that  its  use 
may  awaken  in  others  the  same  deepening  hunger 
for  the  Bread  of  Life  that  has  come  to  him,  and 
may  also  be  the  means  of  breaking  unto  them, 
day  by  day,  the  "bread  .  .  .  which  cometh  down 

out  of  heaven." 

WILLIAM  HIRAM   FOULKES 


SWARTHMORE,   PeNNA., 

October  1,1914 


LIVING    BREAD 

FROM   THE   FOURTH    GOSPEL 


JANUARY    ONE 


3rof)n  I;  I.    3n  ti)c  faeginning  toas  ttje 


N  the  beginning  of  beginnings!  There  is  only 
one  true  beginning;  all  others  are  events 
flowing  from  the  one  eternal  source.  Laws 
are  dated  upon  statute  books,  but  law  is  the 
will  of  God.  Truth  has  had  its  sages  and  seers  in 
all  the  ages.  It  was  born  in  the  beginning  of  eter- 
nity. A  new-found  love  springs  from  the  breast 
of  every  mother  who  looks  upon  the  face  of  her 
new-born  babe;  yet  love  began  when,  in  the  be- 
ginning, "God  so  loved."  The  miracle  of  life  has 
been  wrought  a  myriad  times,  yet  life  had  its 
beginnings  in  the  beginning  with  the  living  God. 
In  the  beginning  of  time  and  of  eternity  was 
the  Word.  In  every  temporal  beginning  of  truth 
and  love,  he  is  the  eternal  beginning.  The  years 
are  his;  the  cycles  and  the  days.  He  is  the  eter- 
nal Alpha.  Shall  the  redeemed  children  of  God 
dethrone  the  Word  from  his  seat  of  majesty  in 
the  beginning?  He  must  have  not  merely  emi- 
nence or  prominence  but  "in  all  things  .  .  .  the 
preeminence." 

Put  him  first,  this  dawning  day  of  the  year  that 
is  to  be;  first  in  the  heart  and  the  home;  first  in 
trust  and  first  in  service;  first  in  everything  and 
everywhere. 

0  tftou  taf)o  art  before  all  beginnings,  grant 
tJjat  ti)ii  pear  notn  begun  map  be  tontinueii 
anb  enbeb  in  tijee,  ttrougt)  ^csua  €l)ii6t  out 
ICorb! 


JANUARY   FOUR 


SToijn  i :  4.     3n  ijint  toad  life. 

y{  T  could  be  said  of  any  man  that  "life  was  in 
him,"  When  did  he  live,  and  where,  and  to 
what  profit?  —  that  is  the  terse  biography  of 
'^  every  man,  and  the  epilogue  is  written  by  an 
unbidden  hand,  "he  died."  Of  only  One  can 
it  be  said,  "In  him  was  life."  He  was  its  source 
and  its  content;  its  fountain  and  its  fullness. 
We  do  not  measure  him  in  terms  of  life.  We 
measure  life  by  him.  "In  him  was  life."  While 
it  is  fair  to  pluck  the  "flower  in  the  crannied  wall" 
and  to  "know  what  God  and  man  is,"  there  is  a 
better  solution  of  the  mystery  of  life.  The  larger 
contains  the  less.  The  Cross  reveals  more  than 
the  cranny.  The  Lord  of  life,  in  whom  all  its 
fullness  dwells,  does  not  defraud  the  meanest 
serf  in  all  His  domain  of  the  fullest  life  he  is  able 
to  enjoy.     The  life  he  lives,  he  gives. 

I  would  not  refuse  to  learn  the  lesson  of  life 
to-day,  however  taught  me,  and  by  whomsoever 
taught  me.  The  withering  leaf,  the  haunting 
echoes  of  a  voice  that  is  stilled,  the  flight  of  a 
bird  on  its  "trackless  way,"  all  speak  of  life;  but 
He  is  life,  its  all  in  all. 

-^^ 
0  ti)ou  taato  tibat  lap  boton  t\)p  life  for  me, 
take  up  again  tl)p  life  in  me  ttjig  bap! 


JANUARY   FIVE 


HTofjn  1:  4.     tKfje  life  teas  tf)c  ligfjt  ot  men. 

^^HE  border  line  between  the  great  physical 
forces  of  life  is  very  faint.  It  is  hard  to 
tell  when  heat  begins  and  light  ends; 
when  the  electric  wave  passes  into  the 


X-ray.  Nature  has  not  only  put  at  our  disposal 
a  wealth  of  elements,  but  she  has  taught  us  a 
subtle  alchemy  by  means  of  which  to  transmute 
one  force  into  another.  Christ  is  the  great  al- 
chemist. He  turns  life  into  light.  Rarer  than 
radium  is  the  light  of  life  that  emanates  from 
him.  He  is  both  the  energy  and  the  source  of 
the  light  that  is  transformed  into  life.  He  is 
life's  secret  and  its  solution,  life's  cause  and  its 
climax.  His  life  became  the  light  of  men,  and  in 
that  life  a  thousand  other  transmutations  come  to 
pass.  Sorrow  is  turned  into  joy;  pain  into  peace; 
care  becomes  trust  and  the  paralysis  of  doubt 
passes  into  the  vigor  of  holy  purpose. 

If  only  my  life  to-day  be  lived  in  him,  how 
radiant  will  be  my  sky,  how  cheerful  my  lot,  how 
serene  my  sojourning,  even  in  a  vale  of  tears. 
Clouds  may  come  but  they  will  disappear. 
Storms  may  gather,  and  even  break,  but  they 
will  hide  the  glory  of  the  sun  for  only  a  passing 
moment.  Shall  not  others,  also,  see  light  in  me, 
because  I  live  in  him? 

-^' 
IListt  of  #otJ  anb  lLigl)t  of  tfje  toorlb!    tlTfjou 
art  mp  life.     JRcflect  ttpself  tftrougj)  me  ttjis 
bap  into  gome  cocnec  of  bacbnescdl 


JANUARY    SIX 


3Iol)n  I:  14.    Sinii  ti)t  Movti  became  flcsij. 
-^' 

=^HE  Prologue  of  the  Fourth  Gospel  passes 
from  heaven  to  earth.  Having  gathered 
all  the  glory  of  the  eternal  beginnings, 
of  light  and  life  and  God,  it  focuses  the 


flood  tide  of  glory  upon  the  manger  of  Bethlehem. 
"The  Word  became  flesh."  There  is  no  conde- 
scension here;  no  passing  from  the  sublime  to 
the  trivial.  Five  mortal  words  never  before  or 
since  compassed  so  lofty  a  truth  or  heralded  so 
glorious  a  gospel.  The  sentence  is  dazzling  in 
the  sheen  of  ineffable  splendor.  "The  Word 
became  flesh."  What  infinite  travail!  The  un- 
created God  in  the  throes  of  birth!  The  Eternal 
cradled  in  the  swaddling  bands  of  years!  Did  one 
ever  "stoop  so  low  to  conquer"?  He  not  only 
drew  near  to  flesh;  he  became  flesh.  He  not 
only  felt  the  human  soul;  he  fathomed  it.  The 
Lord  of  life  passed  under  the  yoke.  He  has  be- 
come bone  of  our  bone  and  flesh  of  our  flesh, 
forever  and  forever. 

I  may  groan  under  the  tyranny  of  the  flesh 
to-day.  Its  infirmities  and  limitations,  its  cum- 
bering weights  and  its  besetting  sins  may  break 
down  my  imperious  spirit  and  imprison  me  in  the 
loathsome  dungeon  of  shame.  Rise  up,  my  cap- 
tive soul,  the  living  God  hath  set  free  thy  flesh 
by  becoming  flesh  for  thee. 

0  t{ri)ou  ta)t)o  tiiint  leabe  tl)p  tljrone  anti  ti)!* 
btnglp  ctoiun,  ttiece  is;  room  in  mp  l)tavt  foe  ttjcci 


JANUARY    SEVEN 


HTofjn  I:  14.  S(nb  btoelt  among  ui. 
'^■ 
'HAT  a  holy  tabernacle  was  the  body 
of  His  flesh!  Little  did  men  dream, 
and  as  little  do  we  realize,  how  royal 
a  Tenant  dwelt  in  that  tent  of  clay. 
It  was  moved  about  as  the  tabernacles  of  all  other 
human  souls.  The  storms  beat  upon  it,  and  the 
noonday  sun.  It  was  carried  here  and  there,  set 
up  and  taken  down;  at  last,  torn  and  broken,  it 
was  nailed  to  a  cursed  tree  and  its  immortal  Tenant 
was  dispossessed,  although  only  for  a  season. 

In  the  last  day,  we  read,  the  Tabernacle  of  God 
shall  again  be  with  men.  It  was  but  yesterday 
that  he  walked  and  talked  and  wrought  "in  the 
days  of  his  flesh."  To-day  he  dwells  among  us  in 
the  person  of  the  invincible  Companion  whom  he 
has  sent.  To-morrow,  blessed  to-morrow,  we 
shall  dwell  with  him  in  glory,  forever  and  forever. 

-^' 
It  is  mine  to  give  tabernacle  to-day  to  the  in- 
carnate Christ.  I  am  called  to  carry  with  me 
into  my  daily  toil  not  only  the  image  of  my  Saviour 
but  even  his  very  self.  The  indwelling  Christ 
still  dwells  with  men,  with  me. 

^^ 
0  tlTfjou  tofto  in  tbe  bapss  of  tbp  flesf)  "bitisit 
btacU  among  men!   IDtucU  in  me  to=bap  fap  tftp 
?^Dlp  Spirit  anb  fit  me  for  mp  eternal  btocUing- 
place  toiti)  ti)ee  in  tt)e  Jfatl)er'i$  i)ou&e! 


JANUARY     EIGHT 


3rotn  I:  14.    jFuU  of  ^xutt  anli  ttutlj. 
-^^ 

'E  can  best  measure  fullness  by  ex- 
cluding every  lack.  Is  there  a  full- 
ness of  light?  Then  there  can  be 
no  darkness,  no  shadow,  no  dusk, 
no  dimness.  So  in  beholding  the  fullness  "of 
grace  and  truth"  in  Christ,  we  see  it  upon  the 
background  of  our  own  lack.  Measure  him  by 
the  man  of  our  acquaintance  most  truthful  and 
most  gracious.  Instantly  defects  appear,  although 
not  in  Him.  All  that  we  hope  to  be  and  ought  to 
be  in  contrast  with  what  we  are,  is  disclosed  in  him. 
When  he  appeared,  the  age-long  travail  of  Truth 
was  over  and  it  had  become  incarnated  in  the  only 
begotten  Son.  With  his  dawning  as  the  Sun  of 
Righteousness,  the  day  of  perfect  grace  was 
ushered  in.  He  "dwelt  .  .  .  and  we  beheld," 
said  the  eyewitnesses  of  old.  "He  dwells  and  we 
behold"  is  still  the  testimony  of  men  concerning 
One  "whom  not  having  seen  [they]  love;  .  .  . 
with  joy  unspeakable  and  full  of  glory." 

All  the  grace  and  truth  to  satisfy  my  every  need 
I  may  find  and  have  in  him.  He  causes  me  to 
"hunger  and  thirst  after  righteousness"  only  in 
order  that  he  may  cause  me  to  be  filled.  He 
permits  me  to  see  the  defects  of  my  soul  in  his 
holy  light  that  I  may  long  to  be  like  him. 

-^- 
(0  tKftou  (n  fcDfjom  all  fullnegg  btoells!   Cobcr 
tljc  nafaebncss  of  mp  goul's;  pobertp  toitb  tfjp 
Kcamlcstjt  robe  of  ttutfj  ani  %xatt\ 


JANUARY   NINE 


fotn  I:  \7.  Jfoc  tfje  lata  fcoas  gibcn 
tbrougl)  Jfloscs;  grace  antJ  tcutfj  came  tbrougt) 
Icsus  Cfjtist. 

r^HERE  is  a  double  contrast  here:  between 
the  law,  and  grace  together  with  truth; 
between  Moses  and  Christ.  It  is  con- 
trast,  but  not  contradiction.  Grace  and 
truth  do  not  destroy  the  law;  they  give  it  life. 
Christ  did  not  deny  Moses;  he  was  that  "prophet 
.  .  .  like  unto  Moses,"  yet  the  Son  of  God. 

We  are  not  so  much  concerned  to  know  how 
the  law  came  as  to  know  that  grace  and  truth 
came  through  Jesus  Christ.  The  law  at  best  was 
a  broken  cistern ;  grace  and  truth  are  living  waters 
fresh  from  the  fountain,  which  is  Christ.  There 
is  no  grace  apart  from  him.  Just  as  the  hidden 
coal  is  but  the  stored-up  energy  of  the  sun,  so 
does  every  manifestation  of  divine  love  and  truth 
trace  its  source  to  the  Sun  of  Righteousness. 

Grace  and  truth  are  mine  through  Jesus  Christ. 
What  he  came  to  give  to  the  many,  he  has  freely 
given  to  me.  The  source  of  all  my  goodness  is 
higher  than  the  inheritance  of  race  or  family, 
than  the  power  of  self-will  or  self-righteousness. 
Shall  I  be  an  ingrate  to-day,  and  revel  in  the  grace 
and  truth  of  God,  without  so  much  as  an  upward 
look  to  Christ  who  is  its  living  source? 

-^• 
©  Cljtigt,  tljou  art  tf)c  fountain!    Slgguage 
mp  tbirgt  tfjis;  berp  Jjout  toitfj  Ijeabenlp  grace 
anb  truttjl 


JANUARY    TEN 


Joljn  I:  22.    JHSfjat  £(apest  tfjou  of  tfjpficlf? 

'HEN  the  Jews  asked  John  the  Baptist 
"What  sayest  thou  of  thyself?" 
they  really  meant,  "What  sayest 
thou  of  Christ?"  His  direct  testi- 
mony to  himself  would  be  the  clearest  witness  as 
to  his  attitude  toward  Christ.  "He  confessed, 
and  denied  not;  ...     I  am  not  the  Christ." 

-$^ 
What  do  I  say  of  myself,  in  the  light  of  Christ 
who  stands  by?  Dare  I  parade  my  self-righteous- 
ness, my  pride  of  person  or  attainment?  Will  I 
presume  to  patronize  the  Son  of  God  by  taking 
my  place  alongside  of  him?  It  is  not  enough  to 
"deny  not,"  I  must  also  confess  that  he  is  Christ. 
It  is  not  enough  that  I  should  see  him  in  his  glory; 
I  must  also  see  myself  in  his  light.  What  I  say 
of  myself,  this  day,  in  the  home,  the  office,  the 
school  or  the  shop,  will  bear  silent  witness  to  what 
my  heart  says  of  him.  Let  me  but  walk  witH  the 
unselfish  prophet  of  the  wilderness  for  one  passing 
hour,  and  then  I  will  see  the  increasing  Christ  as 
I  decrease.  When  my  witness  is  of  him,  and  not  of 
myself,  my  witness  will  be  true. 

€>  tf)ou  toljoge  toap  Uias  prepared  in  tf)c  toil- 
berness!  tip  one  of  olb!  ;^abe  mc  tljp  fore- 
runner in  tj)c  tDorll)  into  tobitlj  3  enter  tfjis  bap! 
illap  IS  confesfg  anb  benp  not  t^ou  art  tije  Cljrist! 


JANUARY   ELEVEN 


HTofjn  I:  23.     ^)t  iaitt,  3  am  tljc  lioicc  o£ 
one  crptng  in  tlje  tuiUjerncgs. 

'&^ 

VOICE,  conscious  of  itself  and  of  Christ 
—  this  was  John  the  Baptist.  His  art 
was  not  "divine  philosophy,"  or  music 
with  its  charms.     He  laid  no  foundations 

for   temples   and   builded   no   thrones   for   kings. 

He  was  only  a  voice  that  spent  itself  in  calling; 

an  iconoclastic  voice,  strident,  stinging,  scathing. 

Yet  he  was  the  voice  of  God.     God  spoke  in  him 

and  called  men  to  repentance  and  to  judgment. 

By  his  voice  God  was  heralding  the  coming  of  the 

King. 

In  the  hour  of  great  trial,  fire  or  flood  or  mid- 
night evil,  it  is  the  warning  voice  upon  which  most 
depends.  The  watchman  upon  the  tower  must 
cry  aloud.  Are  there  those  whom  I  shall  meet 
this  day,  to  whom  I  ought  to  become  God's  voice? 
Will  I  fear  to  say,  "Repent,"  to  my  own  soul  and 
to  the  souls  of  men  about  me,  as  the  judgment  of 
Christ  draws  near?  The  wilderness  may  threaten 
me  with  its  solitude,  the  crowded  marts  of  men 
may  engulf  me  in  their  seething  multitudes. 
Wherever  God  may  cast  my  lot  to-day  I  would 
lift  a  clarion  voice  in  his  behalf  who  has  called 
me  into  his  service  crying.  Repent,  believe,  for  the 
King  draweth  near! 

ILorb,  aptak  to  mc,  tfjat  3  map  fipcab  in 
libins  cc{)oc£(  of  ti)v  tone  ttjis  liapl 


JANUARY    TWELVE 


3ro!)n  1 :  26.  2fn  tfje  mitiX  of  pou  stantictJ) 
one  totjom  j>e  bnotD  not. 

-^^ 

7TT  is  told  of  an  ancient  king  that  he  loved  to 
walk,  disguised,  among  his  subjects,  listening 
to  their  conversations,  entering  into  their 
^  toil  and  pastimes.  The  King  of  kings  also 
walked  among  men  who  knew  him  not,  yet  the 
concealment  was  not  due  to  him.  By  every  word 
and  work  he  sought  to  make  known  his  eternal 
power  and  Godhead. 

God  standing  in  the  midst  and  we  know  him  not! 
Is  not  this  the  tragedy  of  faith?  Not  of  faith, 
but  of  unbelief!  If  our  hearts  were  fully  set  upon 
him,  our  energies  bent  upon  his  will,  we  would 
oftener  discover  the  Holy  One  in  the  midst  of  us. 
Even  so,  he  will  not  always  stand  unrevealed.  In 
the  hour  of  trial,  when  the  storm  of  grief  threatens 
to  engulf  us,  out  of  the  darkness  we  shall  hear 
his  voice,  "It  is  I;  be  not  afraid."  How  trustfully 
I  ought  to  live  this  day!  With  what  courage  it 
behooves  me  to  bear  my  appointed  burden!  How 
chaste  and  heavenly  should  be  my  walk  and  con- 
versation, since  the  unseen  Holy  One  is  by  my 
side! 

©  tljou  Cfjttst  of  (^ob!  Het  no  Kin  of 
mine  \i\tit  tJjp  fate  from  mel  <grant  me  a  fifap 
of  tloutilcsg  fcllotosljip  toitf)  tijcc  tJjig  libelong 
bap! 


JANUARY    THIRTEEN 


STofjit  1 :  29.    Peljolb.  tfje  ICamb  of  <§ob,  tljat 
taketi)  atuap  tije  &\n  of  ttje  tooclli! 

UCH  a  sight  is  more  than  my  unaided  eyes 
can  bear.  It  is  grief  enough  to  see  one  in 
travail  for  his  own  sins.  How  can  I  look 
upon  God's  Lamb  led  to  the  slaughter  for 
the  sins  of  the  world?  Ah,  and  for  mine!  He 
was  wounded  for  our  transgressions,  he  was 
bruised  for  our  iniquities. 

What  can  I  do?  Can  I  avert  the  stroke  from 
him  —  "the  stroke  that  was  my  due"?  Can  I 
lighten  the  load  by  bearing  my  own  sins?  That 
would  but  double  the  weight  of  his  shameful  cross. 
All  I  can  do  is  "behold  and  see."  Behold,  with 
"broken  heart  and  contrite  sigh";  behold,  with 
eyes  of  faith  and  not  of  flesh;  behold,  with  holy 
horror  of  the  sin  that  nailed  him  to  the  tree,  and 
of  every  sin  that  crucifies  him  afresh. 

My  path,  this  day,  is  upon  an  untried  way.  I 
know  not  what  of  good  or  ill  awaits  me.  May 
God  so  guide  me,  that  before  the  evening  shadows 
gather,  I  shall  stand  upon  that  "green  hill  far 
away"  and  behold  again  my  suffering  Saviour, 
taking  away  my  sin  and  the  sin  of  the  world! 

CD  tfjou  ICamb  of  <©oIj,  tftat  tabest  aiuap  tlje 
{tin  of  tt)e  taooclti!   ^abe  mercp  upon  met 


JANUARY   FOURTEEN 


EFoljn  1 :  39.  9Inb  tl)ep  abobe  toitlj  \)m  tljat  tiap. 
-§^ 
'E  would  give  a  great  deal  if  we  could 
know  where  he  dwelt.  How  eagerly 
we  would  seize  upon  every  trivial 
incident  in  his  daily  life;  what  he  ate, 
where  he  slept,  what  he  said  and  did.  Yet  if  we 
knew  all  these,  we  might  lose  him  in  the  midst  of 
them.  "They  abode  with  him  that  day."  In 
the  days  to  come,  he  would  abide  with  them,  in 
Capernaum  or  Jerusalem  or  Bethany.  Now  they 
abode  with  him.  He  furnished  the  food,  the  guest 
chamber,  the  water  for  their  weary  feet.  They 
were  the  unwitting  guests  of  the  Son  of  God. 

-^ 
The  Lord  still  has  his  abiding  place,  to  which 
he  calls  us,  saying,  "Come  and  see!"  Apart 
from  the  stress  and  strife  of  our  daily  toil,  we  may 
abide  this  very  hour  in  the  guest  chamber  which 
he  has  prepared  for  us.  If  we  but  humbly  seek 
him,  we  surely  shall  fmd  his  dwelling  in  our  hearts 
and  "in  the  secret  of  his  presence"  our  souls  shall 
delight  to  hide.  My  dwelling  place  may  be  never 
so  humble  but  he  will  gladly  abide  with  me.  Dare 
I  be  indifferent  to  his  gracious  invitation  to  dwell 
with  him  in  the  secret  places  of  the  Most  High? 
The  King's  invitation  is  a  command.  I  will  be 
his  obedient  subject  to-day. 

•*^ 

0  tljou  tofjom  3  Ijabc  oft  besougfjt.  abit>c 
iuitij  mc!  itlUt  tijou  not  let  me  tttis  tiap  abtbe 
boit^  tt)ce? 


JANUARY   FIFTEEN 


Jofjn  I:  41.    I^c  finbet!)  first  \^\i  oton. 

NDREW'S  faith  was  genuine.  If  he  had 
organized  a  "Society  for  the  Saving  of 
the  Jews  of  the  Dispersion,"  and  had 
forgotten  Simon,  his  brother,  there  might 
have  been  no  Pentecost.  When  Christ  truly 
finds  us,  we  shall  seek  to  find  our  own  and  to  bring 
them  to  him.  Christian  fathers,  heedless  whether 
their  own  sons  have  found  Christ;  Christian 
mothers,  careless  whether  their  daughters  have 
been  saved;  Christian  masters,  more  intent  upon 
money  and  machinery  than  they  are  upon  men, 
are  not  walking  in  the  footsteps  of  Andrew,  who 
first  found  his  own.  The  search  need  not  end 
there,  will  not  end  there,  but  it  must  begin  there. 

-^^ 
Have  I  prayed  for  China  to-day  and  for  India 
and  Africa?  Have  I  made  intercession  for  my 
native  land?  It  is  well  and  Christian  so  to  do. 
In  the  words  of  Maltbie  D.  Babcock,  "my  love 
has  a  broken  wing  if  it  cannot  fly  across  the  ocean." 
Yet  love  does  not  always  or  even  first  soar  to  dizzy 
heights.  It  cherishes  its  nest  and  its  own  nestlings 
even  if  it  does  not  forever  stay  in  it  or  with  them. 

First,  let  me  seek  and  find  my  own,  whoever 
her  may  be,  and  wherever  —  then  my  prayer  for 
all  the  world  will  be  full  of  power. 

-^ 
0  tfjou  tofjo  bibst  lobe  tJjine  oton  unto  tfjc  cnb! 
(@tbe  mc  a  gecbing  lobe  foe  tl)0£(e  b)i)om  tijou 
fjaist  giben  mc! 


JANUARY   SIXTEEN 


BFotn  I:  42.     Sfesufi  loobcb  upon  tint. 

"YfE  also  looked  upon  Peter  in  the  early 
morning  of  his  passion  day,  and  that 
look  broke  Peter's  heart.  He  looked 
upon  Jerusalem  from  the  Mount  of 
Olives  and  that  look  broke  his  own  great  heart. 
He  looked  upon  the  penitent  thief  hanging  beside 
him  on  the  cross,  and  that  look  opened  Paradise. 
He  looked  at  Judas,  and,  behold,  "it  was  night." 
This  time  his  look  was  a  look  of  recognition. 
Later  he  saw  under  the  distant  fig  tree  an  Israel- 
ite in  whom  there  was  no  guile,  and  when  the 
morning  brought  him  face  to  face  with  Nathanael, 
he  looked  upon  him  with  the  look  that  meant 
life. 

What  does  my  Lord  see  when  he  looks  upon  me 
this  day  —  that  which  will  break  my  heart  or  his? 
Will  there  be  a  dawning  of  judgment  or  of  Paradise 
in  Jesus'  look?  Will  he  find  guile  and  unfongiven 
guilt,  or  his  own  goodness  hidden  >n  my  heart  by 
faith?  I  fear  to  face  what  he  will  find.  Too  well 
I  know  the  troubled  depths  of  doubt  and  sin. 
His  holy  eyes  will  hurt  me  to  the  quick  but  they 
will  also  heal  me.  May  he  see  in  me  his  own  dear 
child,  and  by  his  look  of  love  give  me  access  to 
the  circle  of  his  true  disciples! 

'^- 
0  ^i)ou  tuijo,  toiti)  a  loob.  titsit  atal  tije 

besettnieg  of  men!   3i  tooulb  loob  unto  ti)ee  to= 

bap  anb  libc! 


JANUARY    SEVENTEEN 

STobn  2:   I.     ^nb  tlje  t^ttb  bap  ti)txt  \oai  a  macriaBe. 

T  was  early  in  the  Master's  ministry  that  he 
set  his  seal  upon  holy  love.  He  complied 
with  the  customs  of  his  time  and  lent  his 
presence  to  the  festivity  that  surrounded  the 
hour  of  wedlock.  He  was  no  free  lance,  however, 
making  sport  of  life's  holiest  sanctions.  By  so 
much  as  he  loved  and  honored  the  mother  who 
bore  him,  did  he  seek  the  honor  of  those  who  en- 
tered into  the  lot  of  conjugal  love.  It  is  not  the 
miracle  that  he  wrought  in  turning  the  water  into 
wine  that  hallows  Cana  for  us.  That  wonder  did 
not  even  make  a  lasting  impression  upon  the  most 
of  those  who  saw  it.  The  abiding  blessing  of  this 
first  social  ministry  of  Jesus  is  his  confirmation 
of  holy  love  embodied  in  human  relationships. 

-^ 
Do  I  fear  to  invite  my  Lord  to  my  wedding 
feast?  Do  I  hesitate  to  enter  the  sacred  nuptial 
circle  upon  bended  knee  to  him?  Is  there  aught 
in  my  heart  or  in  my  love  that  will  not  bear  the 
light  of  his  discerning  holiness?  Let  me  widen 
the  circle  of  my  earthly  love  and  include  all  those 
who  are  bound  to  me  by  tender  ties.  Is  my 
Saviour  enshrined  in  the  center  of  that  sacred 
social  circle,  his  love  the  radiating  energy  that 
touches  everyone,  even  those  upon  the  remotest 
circumference? 

-^- 

0  lobe  bibitte,  all  lobes  excdlins!  ilinble 
mp  ijuman  lobe  anebi  at  tijp  tolp  altat! 


JANUARY     EIGHTEEN 


M; 


3fol)n  2:  5.    SSaijatfiocbcr  l)e  saitf)  unto  pou,  bo  it. 

^  /j^ARY  had  not  pondered  all  these  things 
in  her  heart  in  vain.  Out  of  that  "Holy 
Thing"  had  emerged  One  whose  stature 
■^  surmounted  the  heavens  and  whose 
majesty  was  the  majesty  of  God.  Mother  love 
had  passed  into  adoring  awe.  How  much  he  knew 
of  which  she  had  never  been  his  teacher!  She 
taught  him  words  and  motions  and  the  common 
things  of  daily  life.  As  his  growing  mind  expanded 
to  receive  each  added  fact  of  human  experience,  she 
looked  within  the  opened  doors  of  his  soul  and  saw 
divinity  enthroned.  His  "whatsoever"  became 
her  law.     "Whatsoever  he  saith  unto  you,  do  it." 


This  is  the  counsel  of  eternal  wisdom  to  the  sons 
of  time.  All  ethics  is  comprehended  in  this  law 
—  the  will  of  Christ.  Kings  pass  under  the  rod 
of  his  sovereign  power.  The  commonest  man  is 
not  absolved  from  the  doing  of  his  will.  Have  I 
yet  learned  the  lesson  of  hfe?  Do  I  know  that 
the  "whatsoever"  of  Jesus  is  law?  Do  I  fancy 
that  there  are  high  seas  without  the  domain  of 
the  divine  will  of  Christ?  Derelict  as  my  soul 
may  be,  without  chart,  rudder,  helm  or  haven  — 
the  law  of  the  will  of  Christ  holds  me  with  bands 
of  steel. 

€>  tf)ou  tofjogc  bcli'gfjt  tnas  to  bo  tfjp  Jfatfjcr'ss 
toiU!  %}t\T?  me  to  bnoto,  to  lobe  anb  to  bo  tbp 
toill  tljig  bap! 


JANUARY    NINETEEN 


SToJjn  2:  7.  STesug  sattfj  unto  tljem,  jfill 
tlje  taaterpots  toitfj  toatcr.  SiniJ  t{)cp  fillclj  tljem 
up  to  tt)e  bcim. 

=^HEIR  perfect  obedience  fitted  into  the 
perfection  of  Christ's  plan.  He  wanted 
the  waterpots  filled  that  there  might  be 
no   room  for  magic  or  mixture.     Every 


added  drop  of  water  made  the  dependence  upon 
him  more  complete.  His  plan  also  provided  a 
bounty,  as  befitted  a  wedding  feast.  He  supplied 
the  lack,  whether  from  penury  or  parsimony,  on 
the  part  of  him  who  gave  the  feast.  The  servants 
filled  the  waterpots  up  to  the  brim,  and  thus 
displayed  their  perfect  trust  in  him. 

Does  not  the  Lord  of  life  demand  like  service 
of  us?  Inclinations  and  capacities,  which  to  us 
are  stone  waterpots,  set  for  some  menial  service, 
he  seeks  to  fill  with  the  rare  wine  of  his  own  spirit. 
What  miracles  of  service  would  still  be  wrought 
by  the  Master,  if  men  would  only  place  themselves 
unreservedly  at  his  disposal !  Whatever  my  task  or 
talent,  mood  or  temperament,  it  is  mine  to  fill  it  to 
the  brim  with  the  water  of  willing  obedience  and 
whole-hearted  surrender.  Six  stone  waterpots  — 
my-time,  my  tongue,  my  pen,  my  purse,  my  temper- 
ament, my  talents — filled  to  the  brim ;  these  belong 
to  him.     Whatsoever  he  saith  unto  me,  I  will  do  it. 

0  tfjou  bountiful  gibct  of  cberp  Qooli!  iHap 
3  piclb  tf)ee  to=bap  an  obcrflotoins  life  of  lotic 
anb  ficrbice! 


JANUARY    TWENTY 


3fof)n  2:  I'l.  ^fjig  facBinning  of  fji^f  fitgn^f 
bilj  ^Jesus  in  Cana  of  <galilce,  anb  manifested 
tis  glorp;  ant)  I)ig  bisfctpleg  beliebeti  on  t)im. 

UDGED  by  its  fruits,  this  sign  is  not  alone 
first,  but  supreme.  It  did  not  touch  the 
multitudes  as  did  the  miracle  of  the  loaves 
JJ  and  fishes.  It  had  no  remedial  purpose  as 
had  all  his  works  of  healing.  It  did  not  rob  the 
grave  of  its  victory,  as  did  his  cry,  "Lazarus,  come 
forth."  It  only  gave  him  believing  disciples. 
Yet  what  greater  fruit  could  he  have  sought  or 
found?  To  win  men,  humble,  sinful  though  they 
were,  and  to  win  them  to  himself,  meant  the 
winning  of  the  world. 

The  Master's  one  absorbing  passion  was  to  win 
disciples.  He  scorned  the  praise  of  those  who 
would  not  follow  him.  He  endured  the  weaknesses 
of  those  who  sincerely  walked  with  him.  To  have 
won  Philip  and  Bartholomew,  Andrew  and  Simon, 
was  sufficient  motive  for  a  dozen  signs.  This  one 
sufficed,  for  they  saw  no  longer  the  bridal  feast,  the 
water  turned  into  wine.  They  saw  only  the  glory 
of  their  Lord  and  Master,  and  they  believed  in 
him. 

My  Lord  still  manifests  his  glory  and  his  dis- 
ciples still  believe  in  him.  I  would  be  his  true  and 
loving  follower  to-day. 

-^^ 
0  Cfjrist!   3,  too,  babe  seen  tfjp  glorp  anb  3 
beliebc  on  tftcc.    JWafae  me  tf)p  true  bisciple! 


JANUARY    TWENTY-ONE 


HTolbn  2:  16.    ®afee  tfjesc  tftingg  fjencc. 
'^• 

ID  ever  a  furious  hurricane  sweep  every- 
thing so  resistlessly  before  it  as  did  the 
whip  of  cords  in  the  hands  of  Jesus  purge 
his  Father's  house?  The  things  he  drove 
away  were  proper  in  their  place.  The  cattle  on  a 
thousand  hills  were  his,  and  the  birds  in  the  air 
were  feathered  subjects  of  his  realm.  The  silver 
and  the  gold  were  his  also.  "Take  these  things 
hence."  He  scorned  not  the  things  but  the  uses 
to  which  they  were  put.  The  house  of  prayer  was 
made  a  market  place.  Covetousness  turned  the 
spirit  of  acceptable  sacrifice  into  sordid  greed. 

What  are  the  things  in  my  life  concerning  which 
he  has  the  right  to  say,  "Take  these  things  hence"? 
Are  they  pleasures  and  pastimes,  enterprises  and 
occupations,  schemes  and  bargains,  friendships 
and  allegiances,  proper  in  their  place,  but  crowding 
him  out  of  his?  Do  I  defile  his  holy  day  with 
wanton  mirth  and  his  holy  house  with  godless 
cares?  It  were  better,  then,  to  smart  under  his 
scourge  of  cords  than  to  be  left  alone  to  my  sins. 
He  will  not  leave  me  alone,  defiled  by  my  sins, 
but  he  will  drive  them  out  and  rid  his  temple! 
which  is  my  body,  of  the  things  that  dishonor 
him  and  that  despoil  my  soul. 

#  Ijolp  ©ne  of  (gob!  ^fjota  me  tfje  tfjingg  tfjat 
bcfilc  tt)p  fjouse,  anb  bp  tJjp  sracc,  31  boill  take 
ttjem  Ijcncc! 


JANUARY    TWENTY-TWO 


IToftn  2:  2^.    Mbcn  tfjcref ore  fje  teas  raisieb 
from  tf)e  beat),  ti^i  bigciplesf  remembereb  ... 
^^ 

"^^HE  death  of  a  friend  quickens  our  mem- 
ories of  him.  We  recall  long-forgotten 
incidents  and  words.  There  is  a  taunt 
in   the   memory,    however.     It   is    as   if 


death  said,  "I  have  taken  him  from  you;  now 
remember,  but  in  vain!"  How  unhke  this  was 
the  way  in  which  the  disciples  remembered  Je- 
sus! They  began  to  remember  when  he  was 
raised  from  the  dead.  The  sting  of  death  had 
been  removed.  They  remembered  a  living  Lord. 
The  Gospels  and  the  Epistles  were  written  because 
they  remembered;  the  Church  was  established 
because  they  remembered.  They  remembered, 
because  he  was  raised  from  the  dead. 

What  a  bulwark  of  faith  and  hope  is  the  open 
tomb  of  Jesus!  Yet,  more,  how  its  glory  illumines 
the  memory  of  his  life  and  words.  We  would 
never  have  heard  the  "wonderful  words  of  life" 
if  the  stone  had  not  been  rolled  away.  I,  too, 
remember  his  words.  They  were  taught  me  by 
loving  parents  in  early  childhood  and  they  never 
have  been  dislodged  from  my  memory.  I  have 
learned  other  things  and  things  about  others,  but 
the  words  of  Jesus  have  taken  deepest  hold.  The 
risen  Christ  still  speaks  to  me  through  his  word. 

4^ 
#  tfjou  tf)at  fitttest  at  tfje  rtgbt  fjanb  of  <6obI 
®f)P  fire^t  bigciplcs  remembcrcb  tfjp  toorbs  anb 
toe  still  remember.    ^6  toe  remember  ti)tm, 
map  toe  bificober  tfjecl 


JANUARY    TWENTY-THREE 


STofjn  2:  25.  jFor  tjc  ftimself  feneto  tafjat  toas  in  man. 
-^ 
NOW  thyself"  was  the  counsel  of  an 
ancient  wise  man.  How  can  we  know 
ourselves?  No  microscope  has  yet  been 
invented  that  will  bring  to  light  the  hid- 
den things  of  that  mysterious  substance  we  call 
self.  Near  at  hand  as  my  soul  is,  no  telescope  can 
penetrate  its  far-away  recesses.  Christ  saw  in  one 
glance  what  was  in  man.  The  hidden  realities 
and  the  far-away  ideals  were  on  the  open  pages  of 
the  book  of  human  life,  which  he  held  in  his  hand. 
He  "knew  what  was  in  man."  Oh,  what  un- 
utterable depths  of  infamy  he  fathomed;  what 
immeasurable  heights  of  divine  goodness  he  scaled! 
He  saw  man  in  His  sinless  self;  forgiven,  redeemed, 
exalted.  He  also  saw  himself  in  man,  hidden  in 
the  heart  of  faith,  mirrored  in  the  soul  of  love, 
embodied  in  the  daily  life  of  service  to  others. 
Because  he  saw  himself  in  man,  he  measured  man's 
possibilities.     "Utter   knowledge   is   utter   love." 

He  knows  what  is  in  me.  My  fleeting  memory 
and  my  limited  self-consciousness  do  not  conceal 
my  inmost  heart  from  him  for  he  knows  me 
altogether.  If  he  still  sees  sin  within  my  heart 
he^will  one  day  "see  of  the  travail  of  his  soul, 
and  shall  be  satisfied." 

0  tfjou  b)I)o  fenotocgt  toJjat  is  in  man!  tlTfjou 
fenotocgt  also,  tofjat  is  in  me.  Milt  tfjou  not 
fintJ,  facncatlj  mp  sorbiti  self,  tljc  image  of  tfjp 
Sinless  self!  1K?elp  me  to  fenoU)  tfjee  trulp,  tljou 
hjf)o  fenotocst  me  altogetljer! 


JANUARY    TWENTY-FOUR 

SToljn  3:   1,2.     i^icobemus  .  .  .  tame  unto  fjint  6p  nigfyt. 
^^ 

OBER  second  thought  bids  us  be  sparing  of 
the  censure  we  are  prone  to  inflict  upon 
Nicodemus.  Fear,  it  is  true,  would  prompt 
secrecy.  There  are  other  motives,  how- 
ever, equally  justifiable.  Because  of  the  things 
that  pressed  upon  Jesus,  the  daytime  was  no  hour 
for  an  intimate  personal  conversation.  When 
the  day's  toil  was  over  both  for  Jesus  and  for 
Nicodemus,  it  was  a  fitting  hour  for  fellowship. 
Perhaps,  as  Matheson  says,  "he  was  so  eager 
that  he  could  not  wait  till  the  morning."  In  any 
event,  "Nicodemus  .  .  .  came  unto  him";  that 
is  the  significant  thing.  Pressed  by  motives, 
whether  altogether  worthy  or  not,  he  came  unto 
Jesus.  The  ruler  of  the  Jews  sat  at  Jesus'  feet. 
Nicodemus  made  no  mistake  in  coming  to  Jesus. 
The  heart  hunger  that  had  been  stirred  in  him 
by  Jesus'  public  words,  drove  him  to  Jesus  for 
intimate  fellowship.  He  knew  that  God,  was 
with  Jesus,  therefore  he  desired  to  be  with  him, 
even  to  sit  at  his  feet. 

It  is  not  so  important  at  what  hour  of  the  day 
or  night  I  come  to  Jesus,  as  that  I  do  honestly 
come  to  him.  However  much  I  may  teach  others 
of  holy  things,  I  must  seek  Christ  for  myself.    - 

0  tijou  \oi)Oit  bap  of  toil  gtrctcljeb  eben  into 
tfjc  nigljt  toattfjcfi!  ®fjou  bibst  ncbcr  turn  atoap 
a  single  fiintere  sccfecr  after  trutlj.  <&ibe  me 
grace  to  seek  ttjee  noto  anb  to  finb  tbeel 


JANUARY     TWENTY-FIVE 

Hfottt  3:  3.     €xtcpt  one  fac  born  anetu,  Ijc 
cannot  act  tf)c  binsUont  of  <©oij. 
-^ 

YEVER  did  truth  more  strange  fall  upon 
human  ears.  It  is  not  one  of  the 
corollaries  of  revelation;  it  is  an  axiom. 
We  are  prone  to  clothe  simple  truth 
with  swelling  words.  Jesus'  method  was  the 
reverse.  He  announced  a  stupendous  truth  in 
the  simplest  phrase. 

The  greatest  change  in  the  world  takes  place, 
not  when  one  substance  passes  into  combination 
with  another  and  is  altered  in  form  and  property; 
not  even  when  the  body  disintegrates  under  the 
touch  of  death.  Birth  is  the  paramount  change. 
There  are  those  who  take  refuge  under  the  mystery 
of  this  truth,  and  bid  us  have  no  concern  about 
being  born  anew.  Did  not  the  Master  rebuke 
such  sophistry  in  the  very  hour  when  he  an- 
nounced this  amazing  truth,  "That  which  is  born 
of  the  flesh  is  flesh;  and  that  which  is  born  of  the 
Spirit  is  spirit"? 

When  Jesus  says,  "Ye  must  be  born  anew,"  can  I 
do  otherwise  than  seriously  inquire  whether  I  have 
been  born  anew,  whether  I  really  see  the  kingdom 
of  God?  If  the  mystery  of  the  new  birth  is  un- 
fathomable, the  evidence  is  simple  and  conclusive.  I 
have  been  born  anew  because  I  am  alive  in  Christ. 

-^ 
0  ttou  onip  begotten  of  <©ob!  tKljou  tnagt 
born  of  a  fairgin.  ^incc  tijou  tast  l)ab  fellota- 
s;t)tp  baitf)  me  in  tlje  tfjroefi  of  flesblp  birtl),  gibe 
me  tf)c  sure  conBciousncfis;  of  birtl)  ancto  into 
ti)p  t)C3benlp  bingbom! 


JANUARY     TWENTY-SIX 
STotjn  3:  4.    3i?oto  can  a  man  be  born  bal)en  Ijc  in  olb? 

=^HIS  pertinent  question  of  Nicodemus 
does  not  merely  voice  his  amazement 
concerning  the  necessity  of  being  born 
anew  in  order  to  see  the  kingdom  of  God. 
It  presents  the  added  difTiculty  of  renewing  the 
hfe  of  one  grown  old.  Men  come  into  their 
second  childhood,  Nicodemus  knew,  but  that 
was  no  sign  of  their  entrance  into  the  kingdom  of 
God.  How  could  the  man  be  born  anew,  whose 
habits  had  long  since  crystallized  into  character, 
who  resisted  change  because  he  was  old  and  no 
longer  young? 

It  is  the  double  glory  of  the  gospel  that  nothing 
is  too  hard  for  God.  The  man  who  is  old  in  sin 
and  waywardness  must  be  born  again,  and  —  praise 
the  grace  of  God!  —  may  be  born  again. 

Whether  old  in  years  and  in,  sin  or  young, 
I  would  learn  that  there  is  no  other  way  of 
entrance  into  the  kingdom  of  Light,  than  the  way 
of  spiritual  birth.  Kings  and  fools,  sages  and 
toilers,  young  and  old  —  all  must  be,  may  be, 
born  again. 

Slmigbtpi^ob!  i^otfjing  ij(  too  fjarli  for  tbec. 
3  must  pasa  unber  ttc  poke  of  trabail,  if  3 
tooulb  eUer  gee  tftp  bingbom.  Itkoob  upon  mp 
fioul,  tf)ou  qutcUcning  Spirit,  anb  gibe  me  life 
from  abobe,  for  ^tiui  cbrist'g  stabel 


JANUARY     TWENTY-SEVEN 

3Iof)n  3:  9.    I&oto  can  tftcse  tfjingfi  be? 

-^ 
'ITH  this  final  confession  of  amazement 
and  slowness  of  heart,  Nicodemus  passes 
out  of  the  scriptural  record,  to  enter  but 
twice  again,  the  last  time  as  a  mourner 
at  the  tomb  of  the  Son  of  God.  What  comes  to 
pass  between  the  interview  by  night  and  the  day 
of  Christ's  burial,  we  cannot  know.  Inference  is 
futile  and  conjectures  are  vain.  Our  most  vivid 
glimpse  of  this  ruler  in  Israel  shows  a  dejected 
head,  a  burdened  heart,  a  troubled  soul  crying 
out,  "How  can  these  things  be?" 

Human  wisdom  cannot  fathom  what  human 
wisdom  did  not  reveal.  The  same  mighty  Spirit 
who  first  spoke  the  truth  with  power  must 
illumine  his  own  revelation. 

-§^ 
How  can  all  the  miracles  of  grace  be?  "Twice- 
born  men"  in  London  and  New  York,  in  every 
hamlet  and  in  every  land,  bear  convincing  witness 
to  the  fact  that  "these  things  be."  The  changes 
wrought  within  my  own  soul  by  the  entrance  of  the 
Spirit  of  Jesus  Christ,  persuade  me  of  the  reality 
of  life  from  above.  I  know  neither  how  nor  why 
he  saved  me,  but  this  one  thing  I  know,  "whereas 
I  was  blind,  now  I  see."  This  is  my  solvent  for 
subtle  doubt.  I  put  my  doubt  into  the  solution 
of  my  faith  in  Christ  and  it  forever  disappears. 

0  tfjou  tot'tl)  tofjom  all  tfjtngg  are  pomihltl 
©cadj  mc  to  trust  tijcc  tobcrc  3  cannot  trace 
tijee,  ant)  to  folloba  ttjce  altuapgl 


^^ 


JANUARY    TWENTY-EIGHT 

3o\)n  3:  14.  ainii  as  iHosess  Uftcb  up  tfjc 
serpent  in  tfje  toilbetnefig,  cbcn  fio  must  tfjc 
^on  of  man  be  Ufteb  up. 

"p^HERE  is  life  for  a  look,  but  it  must  be  a 
look  at  the  uplifted  Christ.  The  scourge 
of  the  deadly  reptile  promised  no  relief 
to  the  suffering  sons  of  Jacob,  until  the 
brazen  serpent  was  uplifted  in  the  sight  of  all  the 
camp.  The  brazen  serpent  glistened  in  the  sun- 
light and  could  be  seen  to  the  ends  of  the  camp. 
The  uplifted  Son  of  Man  shone  forth  in  the  light 
of  the  glory  of  God  and  can  be  seen  unto  the  ends 
of  the  earth,  and  unto  the  ends  of  the  ages. 

-^^ 
"Look  unto  me,  and  be  ye  saved,  all  the  ends 
of  the  earth!"  cries  the  eternal  God  to  my  smitten 
soul.  The  brazen  serpent  was  once  uplifted,  a 
dumb  symbol  of  the  destruction  of  sin  and  a 
carnal  token  of  the  salvation  of  the  sinners.  I 
am  to-day  beholding  the  Son  of  Man  nailed  to 
the  cross  in  the  eternal  self-sacrifice  of  God  and 
the  spiritual  guarantee  of  the  redemption  of 
"whosoever  will."  The  Son  of  Man  has  been 
lifted  up  and  the  gates  of  hell  shake  upon  their 
hinges.  "Worthy  is  the  Lamb  that  hath  been 
slain,"  sings  the  ransomed  host. 

€>  tijou  b}i)o  toast  lifteb  up  to  ti)e  beatl^  upon 
tfje  stameful  cross!  Jflap  31  lift  tijee  up  tfjts  bap 
in  a  i)olp  life  ti)at  sijall  reminb  men  of  t^ee! 


JANUARY     TWENTY-NINE 

SToljn  3:   16.     Jfor  <©oli  fio  lobeb  tijc  bjorlli. 

n^HIS  is  -what  Luther  calls  the  "Little 
Gospel."  It  sums  up  all  the  creeds  and 
is  the  cement  which  binds  together  all 
the  members  of  the  Holy  Christian 
Church.  He  who  doubts  it  has  denied  eternal 
life.  He  who  receives  it  has  passed  from  death 
into  life.  "God  so  loved  the  world."  Few 
philosophies  are  so  bold  as  to  affirm  it.  Agnosti- 
cism does  not,  cannot  know  it.  Pantheism  says 
that  God  is  lost  in  his  world.  Deism  declares 
that  he  has  left  the  world  for  good.  Fatalism 
maintains  that  he  rules  the  world  with  a  rod  of 
iron.  Christianity  alone  reveals  God's  love  for 
the  world.  God  is  love,  as  truly  as  he  is  wise  or 
powerful.  He  who  is  love,  must  love.  He  loves 
with  an  everlasting  love.  "The  power  that  is  at 
the  heart  of  things"  not  merely  lives  but  loves. 

Since  I  am  in  his  world,  his  love  must  be  for 
me.  "Amazing  grace,  how  sweet  the  sound!" 
Unlovely  as  I  am,  I  am  loved  of  God.  What 
matters  else  if  this  be  true?  The  "so"  of  his 
divine  loving  is  great  enough  to  include  the 
world  and  me.  His  power  would  overawe  me 
in  nny  weakness,  his  wisdom  would  overwhelm 
me  in  my  folly,  but  his  love  wins  my  heart. 

€>  tljou  taljo  art  cbedagting  lobe!  iHdt 
mp  rebellious  ijcart  anb  mafec  me  lobe  tftec  as 
3  ougijt  to  lobe! 


JANUARY    THIRTY 


SFoljn  3:   16.     tKJjat  l)e  gabe  fjig  onip  begotten  ^on. 
-^ 
^^HE  love  of  God  for  the  world  is  a  reservoir 
upon  the  summit  of  the  celestial  range, 
filled  with  the  water  of  life.     Encircle  it 


^  if  you  can;  fathom  it  you  cannot.  But 
to  what  avail  is  this  divine  reservoir  in  the  midst 
of  the  eternal  hills?  We  would  perish  with  thirst 
before  we  had  half  scaled  such  dizzy  heights!  Ah, 
but  the  hand  that  fashioned  it,  has  also  opened 
one  great  outlet  earthward.  God  "so  loved  .  .  . 
that  he  gave  his  only  begotten  Son."  The  gates 
are  hfted,  and  the  stream  of  divine  love  goes  flow- 
ing down  through  the  riven  Rock  of  Ages  to  water 
the  wilderness  of  earth  and  to  save  the  souls  of 
men.  In  the  only  begotten  Son,  the  water  of  life 
flows  forth  into  human  hearts  as  from  a  fountain. 
Yea,  all  the  divine  love  of  which  men  stand  in 
need,  or  are  capable  of  receiving,  is  theirs  through 
the  cross  of  Jesus  Christ,  our  Lord. 

I,  too,  may  drink  at  the  fountain  of  his  love. 
The  riven  Rock  of  Ages  was  "cleft  for  me." 
"His  mercy  flows  an  endless  stream,  to  all  eternity 
the  same,"  and  it  flows  for  me.  By  his  grace  it 
shall  not  flow  in  vain. 

^  ICobc,  bibinelp  Qibcn  unto  tfjc  bcatlj  for 
me,  map  3  totttjtjolli  no  £(ingle  gift  of  life 
(com  tijee! 


JAN  UA  R  Y     THIR  T  Y-ONE 

SFofjn  3:  16.  ^fjat  tDfjosiocbcr  faclicbctf)  on 
i)im  i\)ouHi  not  pniii),  but  i)at)e  eternal  life. 

=/HE    "whosoever"    of   the    Gospel    is  its 

glory.     The    gracious    giver   is    not  the 

benefactor   of   a   chosen   few   but   of  an 

innumerable     multitude     called     by  his 
sovereign   will   into   everlasting   life   by   faith   in 

his   only   begotten   Son.     God   calls   his   own  by 
inviting  "whomsoever"  to  believe  and  live. 

"Whosoever"  means  me.  A  humble  man  was 
once  confessing  his  faith:  "I  am  so  glad  the 
Word  says  'whosoever.'  If  it  had  said  John 
Smith,  I  might  have  thought  that  it  meant  some 
other  John  Smith,  but  'whosoever'  means  me!" 
"Whosoever"  means  "believing  me,"  for  no 
matter  who  I  may  be,  —  prophet,  priest  or  king, 
—  unless  I  believe  on  him,  "whosoever"  does  not, 
cannot,  mean  me.  "Whosoever"  means  everlast- 
ing life  for  me,  to-day.  I  would  not  and  I  could 
not  deny  the  larger  and  the  immortal  life  where 
every  limitation  of  time  and  sense  has  been  re- 
moved; that  will  come  in  his  good  time.  This 
Word  of  God  abundantly  affirms  my  title  to 
everlasting  life  here  and  now,  through  the  gift 
of  tlie  only  begotten  Son  of  God. 

<B  (Sob,  tofjo  bibst  loUe  to  lift  uttermost  to 
fiabe  tfje  "  tofjomsiocbcr"  tijat  mean£!  me,  map 
ebcrp  monti)  of  tf)ts(  pasfsing  pear  be  Bcaleb  un- 
to eternal  life  bp  tfje  Crogg  of  Jesus  Cfjrist, 
tljp  ^on,  mp  ^abtour! 


FEBRUARY    ONE 


Jotjn  3:  19.  iantj  tJjifi  ifi  tf)C  judgment,  ttjat 
tf)c  ligfjt  15!  come  into  tfje  toodli,  anli  men  lobeb 
tbc  ijarbncgg  tatljcr  ttjan  ti)t  liQ\)t;  for  tl)cit 
b)otb£t  toece  ebil. 


r'^THIS  is  not  the  record  of  an  indictment  or 
of  a  sentence,  but  of  judgment.  The 
case  has  gone  to  its  trial;  the  evidence 
is  in;  the  pleadings  have  been  made;  the 
divine  decree  is  uttered.  "The  light  is  come  into 
the  world,  and  men  loved  the  darkness  rather 
than  the  light."  It  is  not  symbolic  light  strug- 
gling with  symbolic  darkness.  It  is  the  light  of 
life  entering  into  the  darkness  of  death;  it  is  men 
loving  death  rather  than  life. 

There  is  also  set  forth  a  motive  without  which 
even  the  divine  decree  would  not  stand.  Men 
loved  the  darkness  rather  than  the  light,  "for 
their  works  were  evil." 

The  solemnity  of  this  divine  judgment  ovejawes 
me,  for  I,  too,  come  under  the  condemnation.  I 
have  turned  from  the  light  of  life  unto  the  dark- 
ness of  death.  The  judgment  is  just.  The  decree 
has  been  entered.  O  for  one  to  take  my  place 
and  plead  my  cause  and  set  me  free!  Such  is  he 
whom  God  hath  sent,  not  "to  judge  the  world; 
but  that  the  world  should  be  saved  through  him." 

0  ICtgijt  of  ICifc!  tfjou  ftast  tome  into  tfjc 
toorltj  anb  men  tabc  lobcb  tfteir  oton  barfenegg 
ratijet  tfjan  tfjce!  jHap  3  be  founb  among  tftogc 
taoto  babe  come  into  ttje  ligbt  anb  ace  gabeb! 


FEBRUARY    TWO 


3Iof)n  3:  20.    Jfor  eberp  one  tfjat  boctfj  ebrt 
fjatett  tlje  ItQijt,  anti  comett)  not  to  tije  lig;I)t, 
lest  t)t£i  tQorbst  gboulb  be  cepcobeb. 
-^ 
IN  is  furtive.     It  hates  tlie  light,  because 
exposure  follows  in  its  trail.     Hating  the 
light   is   a   heinous   sin.     It   wrecks   every 
hope  of  freedom  from  the  bondage  of  other 
sins.     Why  is  it  that  evildoers  desire  to  be  let 
alone?     Why    do    those    who    fatten    themselves 
upon   the  sordid   sins   of  our  cities   cry  so   con- 
stantly,   "Do    not   disturb    prosperity   by   moral 
agitation"?     It   is    only  because   they   hate   the 
light  which,  entering  in,  would  reprove  their  evil 
works.     The  work  of  the  late  Jacob  Riis  for  the 
poor  of  New  York  was  to  clear  dark  alleys  and 
let  in  the  light.     For  this  there  were  those  who 
hated  him. 

-^• 

Alas,  there  are  pages  in  the  diary  of  my  inner 
life  that  I  guard  from  the  light  of  day.  I  would 
hate  the  friend  whose  probing  touch  brought  to 
light  those  blotted  records.  Yet,  unless  I  would 
come  under  the  condemnation  of  an  evildoer 
hating  the  light,  I  must  disclose  those  hidden 
sins  to  the  light  of  my  Saviour,  that  they  may  be 
reproved  and  taken  away.  The  skeleton  in  my 
closet,  the  sin  that  lurks  in  the  secret  chamber  of 
my  soul,  must  be  brought  to  him  who  is  the  Light. 

0  tibou  in  toJjom  tfjc  ligljt  of  eternitp  bt£!= 
closeb  no  fault!  ILct  ttp  ligfjt  illumine  me! 
Jforfaib  tfiat  for  fear  of  pain,  21  fifjoulb  conceal 
from  ti)ee  a  single  ebil  ttjing;! 


FEBRUARY     THREE 


3fol)n  3:  21.  iSut  fjc  tfjat  boetlj  tfje  trutf) 
cometlj  to  tf)c  ligl)t,  tbat  Ijig  toorfeg  map  be 
maDc  manifest,  tt)at  tftep  tabc  been  totougJjt 
in  (&oti. 

'^' 

'HAT  means  a  dreaded  exposure  to  one, 
becomes  a  welcome  approval  to  an- 
other. The  thief  enters  the  house  in 
a  darkened  hour;  the  light  would  be 
his  undoing.  The  minister  of  mercy  and  conso- 
lation is  glad  to  be  welcomed  by  revealing  rays. 
Truth-doers  do  not  fear  the  light.  There  is 
nothing  in  its  wave  vibrations  that  disturbs  the 
delicate  harmonies  of  their  lives.  They  welcome 
the  day  which  reveals  the  wedlock  of  truth  and 
duty  as  devoutly  as  a  bride  welcomes  a  fair 
dawning  for  her  nuptial  morning. 

-^ 
If  my  works  have  been  wrought  in  God,  if  he 
has  been  the  inspirer  of  my  life,  his  holy  will  my 
regnant  rule  of  conduct,  then  how  gloripus  a 
thing  to  come  to  the  light,  that  my  co-partnership 
with  him  may  be  made  manifest!  Wayside 
ministries  that  have  been  wrought  in  his  name, 
petty  cares  that  have  been  endured  in  his  spirit, 
works  of  mercy  and  labors  of  love  that  have  been 
accomplished  for  his  sake,  will  all  be  glorified 
one  day  in  him  who  is  the  Light. 

-^ 
0  tfjou  tofjo  btoellcst  in  tf)e  ItgJjt!   ^o  cn= 
able  me  to  bnob)  anb  lobe  anb  bo  tije  truttj,  tijat 
in  tbp  ligfjt  mp  toorbs  map  be  rebcalcb,  tijat 
ti)ep  ttaiit  been  tocougljt  in  <Dob! 


FEBRUARY    FOUR 


Sloljn  3:  22.  23.     laiftcr  tfjcsc  tfjingsf  .  .  . 
3fc£(u6  .  .  .  tarrieb  toit!)  tfjcm  [tis  bistipleg], 
anb  faaptijcb.     Slnb  S'oljn  also  teas  faaptijing 
.  .  .  anb  tljep  came,  anb  tocrc  baptijcb. 
-^- 

^^WO  streams  had  been  flowing  toward  the 
sea.  One  was  the  teaching  and  the 
baptism  of  John;  the  other  the  teaching 
and    the    baptism    of    Jesus.     The    first 


stream  —  that  of  John  —  rose  hke  the  mighty 
Missouri,  flowed  over  a  longer  course,  but  finally 
lost  its  identity  in  the  river  of  life  in  Jesus  Christ. 
This,  like  the  greater  Mississippi,  though  shorter 
in  its  course,  became  the  mightier  and  swallowed 
up  the  other.  John  had  been  baptizing;  the 
disciples  of  Jesus  had  been  baptizing.  Hence- 
forth, the  baptism  of  John  was  to  be  merged  into 
the  baptism  of  Jesus.  How  wonderfully  Jesus 
gathered  up  in  his  ministry  all  that  was  good  and 
spiritual  in  Israel!  The  mission  and  ministry  of 
John  which  God  had  sealed  was  sealed  also  by  the 
approval  of  Jesus,  who  even  submitted  to  John's 
baptism,  that  he  might  fulfill  all  righteousness. 

If  my  Lord  was  willing  to  submit  himself  to 
the  baptism  that  was  to  pass  away,  how  much 
more  I  ought  to  be  willing  to  be  baptized  with  his 
spipt  of  loving  service  that  never  grows  old.  I 
cannot  rise  above  my  divine  Exemplar  who 
fulfilled  all  righteousness. 

O  tfjou  tDl)om  it  bef)oobeb  to  be  obebtent  in  all 
tbings!  (©rant  tfjat  IS  map  toalU  h3itb  tbee,  a  true 
inljeritor  of  tbat  spiritual  life  biljicb  3o\)n  tbc 
l^aptist  proclaimeb  anb  totjiclj  tijou  bibst  confirm! 


FEBRUARY    FIVE 


3Iof)n  3:  24.    Jfoc  SToljn  toag  not  pet  cast  into  prison. 
-^' 

=^HE  Scriptures  reveal  no  sign  of  siiame 
when  they  portray  the  apostles  as  con- 
demned of  crime.  Peter  and  James  and 
Paul  are  often  set  forth  in  prison  garb; 


but  we  do  not  think  of  the  stripes  of  shame;  we 
are  beholding  "the  marks  of  Jesus."  So  John 
the  Baptist  ended  his  ministry  in  no  blaze  of 
glory,  but  in  a  prison  cell  which  opened  toward 
the  executioner's  block.  What  a  pitiful  ending 
to  such  a  life!  "John  was  not  yet  cast  into 
prison,"  wrote  one,  who  had  the  whole  perspec- 
tive. John's  hour  for  witnessing  by  his  death 
had  not  yet  struck.  It  was  still  day  —  the  night 
had  not  yet  come  when  he  could  no  longer  work. 

It  is  not  mine  to  know  what  imprisonment 
awaits  me  in  the  flesh,  whether  of  infirmity,  of 
pain  or  of  privation.  If  I  am  yet  in  the  day  of  my 
active  service,  may  I  be  given  grace  to  servfe  with 
Christlike  devotion,  before  the  hour  of  my  im- 
prisonment draws  near!  If  on  the  other  hand 
bitter  bondage  of  pain  or  grief  holds  me  fast  let 
me  be  found  "faithful  unto  death,"  and  I  will 
receive  the  crown  of  life. 

0  tfjou  tobo  art  patient,  because  tftou  art 
eternal!  tKeatlj  me  tbp  patience  anb  ttjp  jeal, 
tijat  3f  map  labor  faitljfuUp  so  long  as  tfjou 
bost  gibe  me  libertp  to  serbe  t^ee  b)iti)out 
bonbs! 


FEBRUARY    SIX 


STofjn  3:  26.  Sinb  tftep  came  unto  EFofjn, 
anb  saib  to  f)im,  i>abfai,  fjc  .  .  .  to  tof)om  tl)ou 
Jjast  borne  toitneg£(,  bcfjolb,  tlje  game  baptijctfj, 
anb  all  men  come  to  Ijim. 


T7 


OHN'S  disciples  were  in  danger  of  fanning 
into  fury  the  most  destructive  flame  ever 
kindled  in  the  human  heart,  the  flame  of 
JJ  jealousy.  John  had,  in  a  certain  sense,  dis- 
covered Jesus.  Now,  the  one  whom  he  had 
introduced  is  reported  to  have  become  the  object 
of  universal  popularity.  No  severer  test  of  un- 
selfish faith,  than  that  which  John's  followers, 
or  was  it  the  Pharisees,  laid  upon  his  soul,  ever 
sounded  the  depths  of  a  human  heart.  We 
know  how  marvelously  he  measured  up,  how 
patient  and  humble  and  self-effacing  he  became, 
even  when  cast  into  prison. 

What  is  the  measure  of  my  unselfish  devotion? 
When  one  goes  by,  one  whom  I  have  known, 
it  may  be  befriended,  owing  much  to  me  in 
position  and  in  power,  will  I  be  able  to  walk  in 
the  footsteps  of  John,  even  as  he  walked  in  the 
steps  of  him  whose  shoe's  latchet  he  felt  unworthy 
to  unloose? 

0  t|)ou  unto  tofjom  all  men  came!  iHap  3 
tabe  potocr  to  receiUe  tfjee  anetn  tijis  bap,  anb 
to  toalb  beftinb  boljomcber  tljou  mapcst  appoint, 
anb  to  plap  toljatcber  part  tfjou  mapcst  asfiign, 
botoebcr  menial,  in  tfjp  feingbom,  tijat  in  eberp- 
tfjing  31  map  be  toell  pleasing  unto  tfjee. 


FEBRUARY    SEVEN 


3Fof)n  3:  27.     SI  man  can  rcccibe  nothing, 
except  it  Ijabe  been  gi^en  Ijim  from  ijeabcn. 

-St*- 

r^HIS  was  the  cold  water  which  John  the 
Baptist  threw  upon  the  flame  of  jealousy 
which  his  followers  had  tried  to  kindle 
in   his   breast.     With   a   clear   eye,    this 


prophet  penetrated  the  secret  of  Jesus,  and  saw 
that  his  gifts  were  heavenly.  By  so  much  as 
he  himself  had  received  divine  indument  for  his 
mission,  had  the  other  One  received  heavenly 
approval  for  that  greater  mission. 

We  are  not  always  so  frank  and  confident  of 
the  truth  as  was  John.  It  is  one  of  the  com- 
monest practices  of  the  day  to  impugn  men's 
motives.  Gifts  of  temperament  or  talent,  when 
bestowed  upon  another,  we  often  seek  to  trace  to 
some  evil  or  some  dubious  source.  Does  our 
friend  preach  with  power?  He.  must  be  con- 
ceited. Has  he  succeeded  in  business?  We  won- 
der whether  he  has  been  honest.  Do  men  speak 
well  of  him?  We  are  sure  there  is  some  hidden 
inconsistency.  Let  John's  honest  confession  of 
faith  in  the  divine  calling  of  another  be  made  our 
own  this  day,  as  we  think  of  those  with  whom^ 
we  walk  and  work. 

€>  tJjou  tofjo  tfjpscU  bilJSt  come  boton  from 
i^eabcn,  toitf)  ebcrp  t)cabcnlp  grace  incarnatel 
l^clp  me  to  finb  taitljin  mpseU,  anb  to  see  in 
otftcrs.  tljc  game  Jjcabenlp  Source  for  eberp 
gift  tuitlj  toljici)  life  tas  been  enricljeb! 


FEBRUARY    EIGHT 


SToljn  3:    30.    3^t  must  increase,   but  3 
must  decrease. 

^^HIS  is  one  of  the  highest  mountain  peaks 
of  Christian  experience.  Few  men  scale 
it,  as  did  John  the  Baptist.  He  must 
have  made  every  step  of  the  ascent  upon 


his  knees,  for  there  is  no  other  way.     To  choose 

defeat,  faikire,  loss,  in  order  that  the  greater  One 

may  attain — this  is  the  sublime  height  of  faith. 

The  wilderness   prophet   had   been   chmbing  the 

foothills  for  a  season;  he  at  last  made  the  summit. 

He  abased  himself  and   God  exalted  him.     We 

have  no  reason  to  believe  that  John  ever  was 

conscious  of  his  exaltation.     He  was  supremely 

conscious  of  the  overtowering  stature  of  Christ 

and  of  his  own  littleness.     Suppose  even  that  he 

died,  not  knowing  that  he  had  been  exalted,  there 

is  no  loss;   for  the  day  is  yet  to  come,  when  each 

man  shall  "have  his  praise  from  God." 

^^ 

How  deep  is  the  measure  of  my  devotion? 
There  are  many  tests.  How  much  I  am  willing 
to  bear,  to  endure,  to  suffer,  may  measure  my 
love.  In  the  midst  of  these  a  deeper  plumb-line 
sounds  the  depths  of  my  soul.  Will  I  willingly 
tes^  myself  this  far:  "O  Christ,  I  will  fail,  even 
inihe  sight  of  those  who  know  me  best,  if  only 
thou  wilt  triumph"? 

-^ 

0  tljou  cbcr  intrcasing  ^on  of  (^ob!   fflap 

Self   Jjctreasc   bap   fap   bap!    (£nricf)  mp  tm= 

poberistjcb  life  toitf)  tijinc  oton  afaunbant  life! 

JDctrcasing  for  tljce,  map  3  increase  in  tijec! 


FEBRUARY    NINE 


Hlofjn  3:  34.    Jfor  Ijc  gibctf)  not  tfje  Spirit  bp  mcasute. 


Z^" — 1 1  VHE  gift  of  the  Spirit  is  only  measured  by 
our  limited  capacity  to  receive  him. 
Just  as  the  sunlight  pours  into  the 
darkened  room  through  every  crevice 
that  will  admit  light,  so  does  the  gift  of  God  fill 
our  hearts  to  the  measure  of  our  capacity. 

We  are  so  prone  to  judge  the  giving  of  God  by 
the  limitations  of  our  receiving.  Our  peace  is 
not  perfect  to-day,  because  of  antagonisms  or 
fears;  therefore,  we  reckon  that  Christ  has  been 
wiHing  only  to  bestow  upon  us  "partial  peace" 
instead  of  "perfect  peace."  How  abundantly  the 
Word  of  God  confirms  this  unstinted  giving.  He 
does  not  give  by  measure.  If  he  did,  he  would 
not  be  the  loving,  bountiful  Father. 

There  is  comfort  for  me  in  this  gracious  truth. 
Not  even  the  measure  of  my  need  limits  the  supply 
of  his  grace.  I  am  especially  taught  this,  day 
that  he  does  not  give  the  Spirit  by  measure.  He 
does  not  measure  the  gifts  of  his  temporal  good- 
ness; much  less  would  he  measure  the  gifts  of 
his  own  indwelling  Spirit.  How  pitiful  it  is  that 
I  should  seek  to  measure  him,  who  is  the  perfect 
gift  of  the  immeasurable  God! 

0  tfjou  pctfett  giber  of  eberp  goob!  Create 
in  me  larger  capacitp  for  tf)c  inbtoclUng  of  tljp 
l^olp  Spirit,  bibom  tijou  bostt  gibe  b)itt)out 
measiure  to  tbosee  bifjo  biill  receibe  ijiml 


FEBRUARY     TEN 


ETofjn  4:   3.    ?&c  left  SJutiaa,  anti  bepattci 
agatn  into  (lattice. 

'E  are  inclined  to  overlook  the  part  that 
human  motives  played  in  the  program 
of  Jesus.  He  left  Judea  because  he 
"knew  that  the  Pharisees  had  heard 
that  Jesus  was  baptizing  more  disciples  than 
John  (although  Jesus  himself  baptized  not,  but 
his  disciples)."  In  order  to  escape  their  antago- 
nism and  to  fmd  a  more  fertile  field  for  his  ministry 
of  teaching  and  healing,  he  left  Judea.  We  must 
not  read  fear  or  policy  into  his  motives.  He  was 
not  afraid  of  the  Pharisees,  nor  did  he  seek  to 
discount  their  opposition  by  flight.  His  face  was 
set  toward  Calvary,  but  he  awaited  the  fullness 
of  the  times. 

It  may  be  that  this  day  the  commonest  and 
most  prudential  motives  may  so  play  upon  my 
spirit  that  I  shall  go  here  or  there,  without  any 
apparent  thought  of  the  relation  of  my  going  and 
my  coming  to  my  life's  purpose.  If  only  I  may 
have  the  "mind  of  the  Master,"  I  will  fmd  God's 
will  revealed  in  the  commonest  motives  of  my 
daily  life.  It  is  only  so  that  I  will  be  making 
progress  upon  the  pathway  that  leads  at  last  to 
the  Father's  house. 

0  tftou  tufjo  fenotoest  mp  botonsitting  anb  mine 
uprising!  (Suilic  me  so  graciouslj'  ttjat  in  eUcrp 
becision  3  map  mafec  ttjis;  bap,  inbolbing  taf)at= 
cber  of  fjuman  prubence  or  toifibom,  3  map  bo 
tijp  f)olp  toill! 


FEBRUARY    ELEVEN 


BFoijn  4:  4.    ^nb  i)e  tnusft  ntttti  pasiii  tbtousb  Samaria. 


^HE  necessity  was  largely  geographical. 
Samaria  lay  between  Judea  and  Galilee. 
"He  must  needs  pass  through  Samaria," 
unless  he  would  follow  the  tradition  of 
the  Jews  and  travel  on  the  other  side  of  Jordan. 
Yet  geographical  necessity  has  not  exhausted  the 
meaning  of  Jesus'  passing  through  that  way. 
The  ancient  path  of  pilgrim  travel  passed  through 
Samaria.  The  footsteps  of  Jesus  hallowed  that 
highway  and  made  it  the  royal  road  of  the  con- 
quering Messiah.  Geographical  necessity  was 
only  the  forerunner,  crying,  "make  ye  ready  the 
way  of  the  Lord!" 

My  daily  pilgrimage,  also,  moves  forward  upon 
a  destined  way.  The  workaday  world  calls  me 
into  its  routine  and  commonplace.  I  must  needs 
go  to  the  office  or  the  store,  to  class  room  or  to 
household  duties.  The  necessity  of  daily  life 
holds  me  in  a  vise,  and  there  is  no  liberty  for  my 
soul;  when,  lo,  I  discover  at  some  wayside  well 
upon  my  appointed  path,  my  golden  opportunity 
for  the  ministry  of  love  and  service.  Wherever 
I  must  needs  go  to-day,  may  my  pathway  bring 
me  to  God's  appointed  burden  and  his  blessing! 
May  my  necessity  to-day  be  his  opportunity!    . 

0  ti)ou  b)l)05e  tDtll  is  eternal  lata,  anb  tl)c 
boins  of  boljogc  toill  is  perfect  lifaertp!  (S^uilie 
me  tfjis  bap,  io  tfjat  3  map  finb  freebom  for 
fierbice  upon  mp  patlj  of  butp.  Jfor  tijp 
i^amc'fi  siaUc. 


FEBRUARY     TWELVE 


BFofjn  4:  6.  3t6u&  tfjereforc,  being  tuca- 
rieb  tuitt)  \)i&  joucnep,  £(at  ti)U£i  bp  tije  toell. 

T  is  no  impious  hand  that  strips  away  the 
glamour  of  the  Gospel  and  discloses  Jesus  a 
tired  peasant,  hot,  dusty,  travel-worn,  lan- 
"^  guishing  upon  the  well  side,  eager  for  a 
draught  from  its  cooling  depths.  Many  thousand 
pilgrims  had  passed  that  way  before,  had  paused, 
refreshed  themselves  and  passed  by.  At  last  the 
King  himself  draws  near,  with  hidden  glory,  and 
takes  his  lowly  place  by  the  well  side,  weary  and 
athirst. 

What  blessed  relief  may  be  mine  in  the  noontide 
heat,  when  I  know  that  my  Lord  has  passed  this 
way  before!  Even  the  pangs  of  physical  distress 
were  not  foreign  to  him.  He  knew  the  pain  of  a 
parched  throat,  of  aching  feet  and  throbbing  head. 
He  sat,  "thus,"  or  "as  he  was"  by  the  well. 
Who  could  have  recognized  him  as  the  Lord  of 
glory?  Yet  in  but  a  moment,  out  of  those  heat- 
tortured  lips  was  to  spring  a  fountain  of  water 
that  is  still  flowing  "full  and  free."  At  the  feet  of 
that  pilgrim,  a  sinful  woman  was  soon  to  rest, 
convicted,  converted,  redeemed;  and  millions 
upon  millions  are  sitting  at  his  feet  to-day.  May 
I  find  fellowship  in  this  day's  burden-bearing  with 
the  wearied  Christ  who  sat  thus  by  the  well. 

0  t^ou  toijo  SirHem,  vet  {jagt  fanotun  all  of 
man'g  infirmitp!  iHap  3  tabc  ti)p  fcUotosfjip 
in  anp  tDearincssf  of  mp  flcKfj  to=iiap! 


FEBRUARY    THIRTEEN 

ETotjn  4:    7.    tlTfjcrc  cotnetf)  a  tooman  oJ 
Samaria  to  bcato  toater. 

TTT  was  her  menial  but  accustomed  task.  While 
he,  who  was  not  her  husband,  stayed  within 
the  village  of  Sychar,  she  braved  the  noontide 
heat,  and,  according  to  the  custom  of  the 
Orient,  drew  water  for  daily  needs.  It  may  be 
that  some  of  the  bitterness  of  her  jaded  life  made 
her  thirst  doubly  acute  and  her  burden  thrice 
heavy.  Five  times  she  had  been  "put  away," 
in  some  degree,  at  least,  an  object  of  "man's  in- 
humanity to  woman"  that  has  made  countless 
millions  mourn.  Once  again  in  her  uneventful 
life  of  sin  and  shame,  she  goes  to  Jacob's  well. 
Did  ever  the  path  of  drudgery  lead  to  so  glorious 
a  paradise?  She  came  to  draw  water  at  Jacob's 
well,  and  a  greater  than  Jacob  was  there. 

It  may  be  that  my  burden  to-day  is  made  heavy 
by  the  sins  of  others  as  well  as  rny  own.  -With 
discouraged  spirit  I  may  have  started  toward 
some  Jacob's  well.  May  this  day's  journey  bring 
me  to  the  feet  of  him  who  awaits  me  by  the  well 
of  everlasting  life. 

0  tl)ou  ta)i)o  ittet  ti)e  gtnnec  afar  off! 
ICoob  upon  mc  in  t!)c  tjeat  of  ttc  bap  toitfj  tfjat 
mertp  toitJj  tDfjicf)  tftou  tiilist  meet  tfje  tooman  of 
Samaria,  anb  beat  taitlj  me  as  trulp  anb  an 
tenbeclp  ai  tijou  bibsit  beat  toiti)  tjec! 


FEBRUARY     FOURTEEN 

Sfojjn  4:  7.    ^tim  gaitJj  unto  l)er,  <git)c  me  to  brink, 

-^ 
"^^HIS  is  the  beginning  of  a  never-ending 
dialogue.  It  is  the  word  of  the  Saviour 
seeking  the  sinner.  The  Samaritan  set- 
ting soon  passes  away,  but  the  figure 
of  Christ  still  continues  upon  the  center  of  the 
stage  of  the  drama  of  human  life.  We  would 
dishonor  our  Lord,  if  we  took  away  the  sincerity 
of  his  request,  and  made  his  words  a  subterfuge. 
He  was  thirsty.  He  had  no  means  at  hand  of 
supplying  his  own  thirst.  The  woman  had  where- 
with to  draw.  He  therefore  said,  "Give  me  to 
drink." 

The  dialogue  of  faith  often  begins  in  the  same 
way.  Jesus  asks  of  us  that  which  we  can  give, 
because  we  can  give  it,  and  because  he  wants  it. 
Our  devotion,  our  zeal,  our  service  —  these  he 
seeks  at  our  hands.  He  needs  them,  but  not  so 
much  as  we  need  to  give  them.  He  bids  me  give 
him  my  sinful  heart,  in  order  that  he  may  give 
me  his  own  loving  heart.  He  asks  imperiously 
because  it  is  his  divine  right,  but  also  that  he  may 
teach  me  the  lesson  of  instant  submission  to  his 
will.  He  cannot  give  the  water  of  life  to  those  who 
wili-  not  bring  their  thirsty  souls  to  him. 

0  t|)ou  toijo  bilist  ti)iv&t  at  SJatob'i  tocUl 
jWap  tljp  fcUotosljip  fctjitl)  mp  earttlp  life  to=iiap 
fit  me  for  feUotogbip  toitt)  tijee  in  glorp! 


FEBRUARY    FIFTEEN 


STofjn  4:  9.  tKJjc  Samaritan  tooman  there- 
fore saitJ)  unto  tint,  ^oto  is  it  tbat  t|)ou,  facing 
a  ?ebt),  askt&t  tirink  of  me,  tDt)o  am  a  S>amari'> 
tan  tDoman? 

-«&• 

ESUS  had  transgressed  two  traditions.  One 
forbade  him  to  speak  unbidden  to  the  woman 
because  she  was  a  woman;  the  other  forbade 
J/  him  to  speak  to  her  because  she  was  a  Samar- 
itan woman.  There  would  have  been  a  third  reason 
for  anyone  who  knew  her  reputation:  because  she 
was  the  kind  of  woman  she  was.  Since  Jesus 
knew  her  better  than  she  did  herself,  he  broke  all 
three  traditions.  Prejudice  fled  before  his  ap- 
proaching step.  How  bitter  are  the  prejudices 
which  custom  erects  into  rules  of  life!  Even  the 
natural  pangs  of  hunger  and  thirst  are  supposed 
to  be  disregarded  when  any  such  tradition  is  at 
stake.  How  resolutely  Jesus  defied  the  power  of 
all  such  precedents,  trampling  under  foot  those 
"traditions  of  the  elders"  which  interfered  with 
his  fullest  liberty  to  do  good. 

It  may  be  that  this  very  day  I  shall  be  challenged 
by  as  unreasoning  obstacles  as  those  which  met 
Jesus  at  Jacob's  well.  Will  I,  as  resolutely  as  he, 
overcome  them? 

0  tijou  toljo  tamest  not  to  bcstrop  but  to 
fulfill  tfje  lata  fap  setting  men  free  from  ttc 
bain  trabitions  of  |3f)arisaic  unbelief!  Unlp 
me  ti)i6  bap  to  rise  afaobc  mp  innate  prejubices 
to  tt)e  Ijigt)  lebel  of  ti)P  i)olp  ^iH! 


FEBRUARY    SIXTEEN 


JJ 


5of)n  4:  10.  ^Tcgug  .  .  .  gaib  unto  fjer. 
M  tfjou  fenctoest  tfje  gift  of  (Sob,  anb  hjljo  it  H 
tljat  saitlj  to  t|)cc,  (gibe  mc  to  brinfa;  tfjou 
tooulbcst  Ijabc  asfecb  of  fjim,  anb  fjc  tooulb  habe 
giUcn  fjjcc  liuins  toatcr. 

ESUS  was  putting  himself  for  one  moment  in 
the  woman's  place.  He  was  bending  under 
the  burden  of  her  sins,  lost  beyond  the  power 
of  any  human  finding.  Suddenly  there  came 
together  m  his  consciousness  the  perfect  realiza- 
tion ol  who  she  was  and  who  he  was.  "If  you 
only  knew  how  graciously  God  wants  to  give  you 
his  love  and  how  near  to  you  God  really  is,"  Jesus 
was  saymg  in  substance,  "you  would  have  asked 
him  before  this  for  the  living  water,  and  he  would 
have  given  it  to  you." 

If  our  eyes  were  opened,  we,  too,  could  see 
daily  mmisters  of  God's  love  awaiting  our  recog- 
nition and  acceptance.  He  draws  near  to  us  in 
the  spirit  of  Christ.  If  we  but  knew  in  full  meas- 
ure God  s  giving  grace,  and  God's  loving  Son,  our 
Saviour,  we  would  have  asked  long  ago  for  that 
iving  water,  which  he  alone  can  supply.  I  would 
earn  what  is  the  gift  of  God  to-day  for  me  —  his 
best  gift,  and  through  him  who  speaketh  unto 
me  by  his  Spirit,  even  Christ,  I  would  seek  and 
find  the  Living  Water. 

-^ 

€>  (gob,  tfjou  fount  anb  source  of  cbcrp  faless- 

mgl  iWap  3  come  to  tftee  to-bap,  finbing  (gob'0 

best  Qift,   ttje   ii^olp  Spirit,   tfjrouglj   (Sob's 

appomtcb  (giber,  eben  3Fesus  Cfjrist  mp  Horb' 


FEBRUARY   SEVENTEEN 

SSoifvi  4:  II.  tKijc  tooman  staitJ)  unto  i^im, 
^it,  tJjou  ifait  notfjing  to  brato  toitft. 

'OTHING  to  draw  with!  Nothing  but 
his  sinless  hfe,  his  atoning  death,  his 
open  tomb!  Nothing  but  his  nail- 
scarred  hands!  "Nothing  to  draw 
with!"  The  world  has  not  changed  its  plaint, 
and  the  unbelieving  heart  still  sees  no  drawing 
power  in  Christ. 

What  of  my  own  care-fretted  life?  With  what 
weariness  and  pain  have  I  sought  to  draw  living 
water  from  broken  cisterns  of  doubt  and  unbelief! 
The  cords  of  self-righteousness  have  burned  my 
trembling  hands  and  the  sin-bound  bucket  of 
worldly  wisdom  has  bent  my  back  in  its  fruitless 
motions.  It  is  not  Christ  but  I  who  have  nothing 
to  draw  with.  The  divine  "hand  is  not  shortened 
that  it  cannot  save,"  but  my  sins  and  iniquities 
have  palsied  my  hands  and  separated  me  -from 
the  life  that  is  in  God.  The  Lord  has  nothing  to 
draw  with,  for  he  needs  nothing.  He  bids  me 
cease  my  vain  and  anxious  efforts  to  save  myself, 
in  order  that  he  may  save  me  for  his  name's  sake. 

0  tfjou  tafjo  toast  rcjecteb  of  men!  ^bou 
toilt  brato  all  men  unto  tftpgeU.  (O^ibe  me  to 
brink  tljis  betp  ^out  of  tfjat  Ijeabenlp  toatec 
tljat  flotog  from  tbp  ijtaxt,  tftou  ribcn  3Rocfe  of 
agest! 


FEBRUARY     EIGHTEEN 
3fo|)n  4:  U.    tEjje  bjell  is  tiecp. 

™=/HE  well  is  deep!  An  age  that  boasts  its 
breadth  is  apt  to  be  shallow.  It  is  when 
men  come  to  deal  with  their  innermost 
natures  that  they  become  conscious  of 
depth.  "Great  is  this  power  of  memory,"  said 
Augustine,  "a  wondrous  thing,  0  my  God,  in  all 
its  depth  and  manifold  immensity,  and  this  thing 
is  my  mind,  and  this  mind  is  myself.  .  .  .  Fear 
and  amazement  overcome  me  when  I  think  of 
it.  And  yet  men  go  abroad  to  gaze  upon  the 
mountains  and  the  waves,  the  broad  rivers,  the 
wide  ocean,  the  courses  of  the  stars,  and  pass 
themselves,  the  crowning  wonder,  by."  Even 
Jacob's  well  was  deep.  The  mysteries  of  human 
wisdom,  the  speculations  of  vain  philosophies, 
the  traditions  of  Christless  religions,  are  deep 
enough,  but  they  are  dry.  The  well  of  eternal 
life  is  deep  and  full.  Its  water  is  clear  and  cold, 
pure  and  sweet.     It  never  fails. 

Why  should  I  be  disturbed,  even  though  the 
well  of  life  is  deep?  It  is  none  too  deep  to  meet 
my  needs.  Only  that  well  which  is  deep  enough 
to  satisfy  the  needs  of  the  whole  world,  can  satisfy 
min'e. 

0  Cljngt!  ^fjou  art  tfje  Jfountain:  tftc  beep 
gboect  toell  of  lobe!  iflap  31  btinb  of  tfjec  t\)isi 
tiap  anti  Ube! 


FEBRUARY   NINETEEN 


SFotin  4:   It.    Mi}tntt  ti)en  ^ait  tijou  ttjat 
libins  toatcc? 


''HE  Samaritan  woman  had  exhausted  her 
intelhgence  by  a  vision  of  the  well  that 
was   deep   and   of  the   Christ  who    had 
nothing  to   draw  with.     "Whence    then 
hast  thou  that  living  water,"  was  her  cul-de-sac. 

How  mercilessly  our  logic  binds  the  arms  of 
God,  and  how  ruthlessly  he  snaps  the  fragile  cords! 
Our  two  and  two  make  four,  when  the  eternal 
One  enters  unbidden  into  our  calculations  and 
makes  void  our  conclusions. 

It  was  the  sinful  woman  who  was  shut  up  by 
inexorable  logic.  The  Son  of  God  was  not  bound. 
He  had  living  water,  because  he  was  living  water. 
Her  fallacy  consisted  in  looking  away  from  Christ. 
She  was  peering  down  Jacob's  well,  and  was  meas- 
uring the  water  of  life  in  terms  of  cords  and 
buckets,  drawings  and  fillings.  He  was  measuring 
life  in  terms  of  life.  His  life  still  "flows  an  endless 
stream,  to  all  eternity  the  same!" 

-$^ 
I  need  not  ask,  "Whence  hast  thou  that  living 
water,"  for  I  know  its  source.     The  Christ  who  is 
the  living  water  gives  himself  to  me. 

0  tfjou  bol)o  ljas;t  t|)c  liuing  toatcr  factausc 
tJjou  art  tljc  libing  toatcr!  Map  3)  taste  to-isap 
ant)  6et  t)oto  goob  (^ob  id  to  brato  no  near  to  me 
in  tijee! 


FEBRUARY    TWENTY 


STotn  4:  12.     Slrt  tfjou  srcater  tfjan  our  fatfjer  STacoft? 

REATER    than    Jacob    and    Isaac    and 

Abraham!      Greater    than    Adam,    the 

father  of  the  race;   than  Abel  the  first 

martyr;   than  Enoch  who  walked   with 

God!      Greater   than   Moses    the    lawgiver    and 

Aaron  the  high  priest!     Greater  than  Caleb  and 

Joshua,  faithful  witnesses  of  God!    Greater  than 

David  and  Solomon;  than  all  kings  and  wise  men! 

Greater  than  Isaiah  and  Hosea;  than  all  prophets 

and  seers!     Greater  than  John  the  Raptist;   than 

James  and  Peter  and  John!     Greater  than  Stephen 

and  Paul!   Greater  than  Polycarp  and  Justin,  than 

Augustine   and    Francis!      Greater  than   all   the 

fathers  and  the  saints!     Greater  than  Luther  and 

Calvin  and  Knox;    than  Wesley  and  Whitefield! 

Greater  than  Spurgeon  and  Reecher  and  Rrooks! 

Greater  than  Washington  and  Lincoln!     Greater 

than  Ruddha  and  Confucius  and  Mahomet;  than 

Socrates   and  Plato!      Greater  than   angels  and 

archangels;   greater  than  worlds  and  dominions; 

greater  than  sin  and  Satan;  greater  than  death  and 

hell!     Equal  with  God;  "Fairest  Lord  Jesus,  Lord 

of  all  nature!"    Son  of  Man  and  Son  of  God! 

-^- 

I  would  humbly  bow  in  his  holy  presence  to-day 

and  acknowledge  his  majesty  and  power.     Then 

drawing  near  to  his  loving  heart  I  would  cry: 

-^ 
^abiour,  more  tf)an  life  to  me, 
31  am  tUnsing.  clinging  close  to  tfjee. 

^toop  to  mp  toeafenegs;,  migfjtp  as  tftou  art, 
91nb  mafee  me  lobe  tfjce  afi  3f  ougfjt  to  lobe! 


FEBRUARY  TWENTY-ONE 

3Tol)n  4:   13.     Cberp  one  tfjat  brinbctlj  ot 
i\\\i  boater  stall  tftirgt  again. 

VERY    one    that  drinketh"   means   every 
_^       one;     means    me.      Who   is   not   athirst? 
Whose    veins    are    not    feverish    for    the 
-==^    cooUng    touch   of  hfe?     Whose   hps   are 


not  broken  with  some  final  caress?  Whose 
tongue  is  not  parched  with  a  farewell  word,  its 
echoes  hushed  in  the  vast  stillness  of  forever?  The 
Saviour  only  uttered  a  tantalizing  truth  that  has 
never  ceased  to  torment  the  human  heart.  The 
world  is  always  drinking,  always  thirsting. 

0  God  of  life,  we  perish  with  thirst,  and  then 
we  drink  the  brine  of  our  own  tears,  and  thirst 
again.  "This  water"  is  all  alike.  In  golden 
chalice  or  in  pewter  pot;  used  lavishly  or  sparingly; 
bought  or  begged;  stored  or  digged,  it  is  all  the 
same;  we  thirst  again.  We  drink  wassail  in  a 
common  cup  and  grim  thirst  fetters  our  throats 
together,  like  a  chain  gang.  I  sit  in  a  corner 
with  my  sterilized  drinking  cup,  but  its  poisoned 
dregs  are  listed  in  the  pharmacopoeia  of  mor- 
tality. We  thirst  again  and  again;  deeper  and 
deeper!  Aching  grows  into  anguish!  Thou  life  of 
God,  we  thirst  for  thee! 

0  CtjrisJt,  tufto  in  tfjc  agonp  cf  Calbarp 
bibst  crp,"3f  tljirgt!"  Slssuagc  mp  anguigjj 
toitJ)  gome  ijcaling  braugbt  from  tfte  cup  tDfjitlj 
tfjou  ftast  falcgscb!  Cljirsting,  3  tabe  ttjirgtcb 
again,     ifflap  31  brink  of  tjjce  anb  neber  t^irfitl 


FEBRUARY    TWENTY-TWO 


5o|)n  4:    14.     JHftosoebcr  brtnfeetf)   of  tftc 
tnatcr  tljat  31  sljaU  giUe  Ijim  stall  ncbcc  tfjirst. 

=^HIS  "whosoever"  was  the  Saviour's  in- 
vitation to  the  Samaritan  woman  to 
"taste  and  see."  It  was  too  good  to 
be  true,  but  it  was  as  true  as  it  was  good. 

Here  is  another  gospel  "whosoever"  that  also 
means  me.     The  Lord  has  a  golden  cup  for  me. 
He   gives   it   to   me   brimful   and   says,    "Drink, 
and  never  thirst!"     This  cup  is  the  gift  of  God! 
Doubtless  it  has  my  name  upon  it,  and  his.    "From 
Christ  to  me,"  a  loving  cup,  a  living  cup,  a  trophy 
of  redeeming  grace.     Could  I  buy  it?     There  is 
not  gold  enough!     Could  I  make  it?     The  finest 
craft  on  earth  would  produce  but  a  pitiful  counter- 
feit!    Can  I  earn  it?    What  labor  of  my  hands  is 
long  and  hard  enough?     May  I   hide  it?     How 
soon  it  tarnishes  with  bitterness  when  it  ceases 
to   be   used!     What  must   I   do?    Just   take  it! 
"I  will  take  the  cup  of  salvation"  which  my  Lord 
has  fashioned  for  me!     I  will  "taste  and  see  that 
Jehovah  is  good."     I  will  drink  and  thirst  no  more. 
His  magic  cup  and  mine  will  open  wells  in  the 
wilderness,   springs   by  the  wayside,   and  —  best 
of  ^11  —  a  fountain  of  life  within  my  heart. 

-^' 
©  tljou,  tDfjom  gibing  bost  not  impobcrist! 
^fjou  Jjast  offercb  all  tf)p  life  to  me  in  tljc  lob= 
ing  cup  tobiclj  is  mine  from  tljee!   iWap  3  brink 
beep  itg  perennial  braugfjt  anb  neber  ttirsti 


FEBRUARY    TWENTY-THREE 

Efobn  4:  15/    ^it,  gibe  mc  tfjis  toattr,  tfjat  , 

3  tljirgt  not,  neitter  tome  all  tfjc  toap  ftitftcr 
to  brab). 

LL  the  way  hither  to  draw!"  Her 
way  was  the  way  of  shame  and  sin; 
of  strife  and  sorrow.  The  dull  monot- 
ony of  it  distracted  her,  with  its  cease- 
less, fruitless  routine.  Suddenly  the  poor  soul 
caught  one  fleeting  glimpse  of  a  vista  that  swept 
paradise.  She  saw  a  radiant  path,  strewn  with 
pure  and  perfect  flowers,  fragrant  with  a  virtue 
she  had  lost,  rare  with  a  beauty  that  she  had 
forgotten.  She  longed  to  enter  in!  She  forgot 
the  sepulchral  way  in  her  sad  past,  and  wearied 
for  that  land 

"Where  saints  are  clothed  in  spotless  white, 
And  evening  shadows  never  fall." 

How  far  have  I  come  to  Jacob's  well?  My 
way  has  been  long  and  full  of  grief.  My  feet 
are  bleeding  from  the  thorns  of  sin,  and  bruised 
by  the  rocks  of  unbelief.  I  have  come  "all  the 
way  hither;"  it  maybe  from  a  forgotten  childhood 
even  to  the  brink  of  the  grave.  0  blessed  vista 
of  the  better  life!     I  long  to  enter  in. 

0  TLoxh,  ttou  fjast  mabc  tfjc  toap  to  tlje  foun= 
tain  ti)t  toap  of  tfje  crosig.  Piii  mp  toanl>er= 
ings  ceage,  tljiss  bcrp  fjour,  as  3  finti  in  tftp 
redeeming  lobe  mp  Ijcart'g  besite! 


FEBRUARY    TWENTY-FOUR 

STotin  4:  16.    <@o,  call  tt)p  ijuebantr,  anti  come  l}U\it^' 
«§^ 

T  would  have  been  sound  counsel  had  she  been 
living  with  a  husband.  Christ  never  sen- 
tences us  to  solitary  confinement,  even  with 
himself.  We  are  to  bring  others  to  him. 
This  reasonable  command,  however,  was  only 
to  uncover  the  Samaritan  woman's  innermost 
heart.  Though  she  saw  the  "vista  that  swept 
paradise"  and  dreamed  of  entering  a  better  life, 
she  could  not  do  so  with  concealed  sin.  How 
futile  were  her  silence  and  her  guile!  How  futile 
ours! 

In  the  midst  of  our  feasting,  even  in  the  name 
of  religion,  like  a  flash  of  judgment  falls  some  un- 
expected word  of  the  Master,  laying  bare  like  a 
surgeon's  knife,  at  a  single  stroke,  a  hideous, 
hidden  ulcer!  In  the  midst  even  of  our  fasting 
in  the  name  of  faith,  when  pride  puts  on  penance 
like  a  garment,  and  forgets  the  Seamless  Robe, 
comes  the  piercing  touch  of  One  who  knows  us 
altogether.  If  there  are  those,  nay,  if  there  is  one, 
whom  I  should  call  in  order  to  share  my  shame  but 
also  my  Saviour's  love,  God  help  me  to  call  such 
a  one  for  the  Saviour's  sake. 

-^ 

€>  tfjou  to  tBf)om  tljc  barfenegg  of  our  fjcarfs  in 
ag  open  as  tfje  bap!  Jllitfjljolb  not  tfjp  Scaling 
toutl),  ebcn  ii  tljc  pain  of  probing  be  ftarb  to 
bear!   jK^urt  but  ijcal! 


FEBRUARY    TWENTY-FIVE 

3Jol)n  4:   17.     Ttuva  saitlj  unto  ftcr,  ®tou 
<Eiaiti£it  taieU,  HI  t)abe  no  i)usbanti. 

ID  she  speak  brokenly  and  hesitatingly, 
as  if  terrified  by  Jesus'  words,  or  did 
she  answer  brazenly  and  defiantly,  as  if 
to  ward  off  further  conversation?  In 
either  event  she  resorted  to  the  device  of  many  a 
convicted  sinner  —  a  half  truth.  Little  did  she 
dream  that  he  who  stirred  such  strange  thoughts 
within  her  concerning  the  water  of  life,  could  in 
one  word  lay  bare  the  utter  blackness  of  her 
wasted  life.  Five  times  "put  away"  and  living 
in  open  sin!  Was  there  ever  a  "case"  so  unre- 
lieved by  a  ray  of  light;  so  helpless,  so  hopeless. 
Jesus  was  help  and  Jesus  was  hope.  He  cut  to 
the  quick  that  he  might  heal. 

In  the  awful  sordidness  of  an  age  that  openly 
laughs  at  holy  love  and  flings  the  roses  of  withered 
wedlock  like  ashes  to  the  winds,  the  presence  of 
Jesus  appears  and  his  voice  is  heard.  "Come 
hither!"  men  and  women,  with  your  shame  and 
your  sin.  "Come  hither!"  It  is  folly  to  deny 
our  guilt,  it  is  cruel  to  deceive  ourselves,  it  is  base 
to  turn  our  backs  upon  the  Saviour  who  loves  us 
in  spite  of  our  sins  and  who  alone  can  save  us  from 
them. 

0  tJ)ou  trpstal  Cljrisit,  tobo  loobclj  hjitfj  un= 
befileb  eves  into  tfje  blackness  of  a  fjuman 
tcatt!  ^0  Quarb  anii  guibe  mp  epei  tfjat  out 
of  a  Jjcart  mabc  pure  fap  tljp  presence,  3  map 
see  <©ob! 


FEBRUARY    TWENTY-SIX 


SFoljn  4:   19.     QCfjc  tooman  fiaitl)  unto  fjim, 
S>tt,  3  jperceibe  t^at  ti)ou  art  a  prophet. 

=^HERE  are  some  who  fancy  that  she  spoke 
with  none  too  gentle  irony.  It  was  as 
if  she  had  said  "You  know  so  much!" 


J-^  Others  more  simply  and,  it  appears,  more 
wisely,  arrive  at  another  conclusion,  and  find  her 
overawed  by  the  presence  of  a  prophet.  Her 
heart  was  deep  enough  and  so  is  mine,  to  be  the 
prey  of  a  dozen  motives,  rushing  forward  in  mad 
turmoil,  threatening,  struggling,  pleading,  resist- 
ing. We  cannot  safely  analyze  the  process  of 
her  heart;  nor  did  Jesus.  He  saw  with  one  divine 
flash  of  insight  her  true,  though  sinful,  self.  She, 
with  only  a  broken  ray  of  light  to  guide  her,  saw 
in  Jesus  a  prophet.  She  discovered  in  him  not 
all  that  there  was,  or  all  that  he  would,  but  all 
that  she  could.  The  window-pane  of  her  soul  was 
very  dirty,  and  only  a  little  of  the  light  shone 
through.  That  little  was  heavenly.  The  peasant 
of  Jacob's  well  was  transfigured  into  the  prophet 
of  the  Eternal  God. 

I,  too,  perceive  that  he  is  a  prophet.  He  has 
revealed  God  to  me,  and  has  also  shown  to  me  my 
inmost  self.  He  has,  beyond  all  else,  disclosed 
to  me  a  Saviour's  love. 

0  J^olp  Spirit,  cleanse  tfje  toiniiotos  of  mp 
goul  ttat  3  map  see  Slefius  as  fjc  ^^  —  ^ropljct. 
priest  anb  iltng;  mp  ^abioutr  anb  mp  ^ob! 


FEBRUARY    TWENTY-SEVEN 

3Foljn  4:  20.  0ut  iatijtta  tuorgfjippcb  in 
tijig  mountain;  anb  pc  gap,  tf)at  in  fetusalcm 
i£t  tt)e  place  tuijece  men  ougijt  to  tuovdljip. 

'''^HIS  is  the  final  word  of  formalism.  We 
not  alone  believe  in  David's  Psalms, 
but  we  prefer  "David's  tunes."  The 
"whom"  of  worship  is  forgotten  in  the 
"where"  and  "how."  There  is  an  Indian  legend 
concerning  one  of  the  Cascade  mountains,  under 
the  caption  "The  Mountain  That  Was  God." 
The  mountain  of  formalism  is  the  mountain  that 
hides  God;  that  supersedes  him.  There  is  only 
one  attitude  more  unchristian  than  formalism; 
it  is  that  in  which  one  kind  of  tradition  seeks  to 
lord  it  over  another.  "Our  fathers  and  this 
mountain"  against  "Ye  and  Jerusalem." 

We  may  be  never  so  much  set  upon  "this 
mountain,"  but  that  we  arc  sure  to  see  and  to 
condemn  those  whose  mountain  is  Jerusalem. 
My  daily  life  is  fettered  with  conventions  and  my 
path  is  strewn  with  the  stumblingblocks  of  tradi- 
tions and  forms.  If  I  would  run  the  race  that 
is  set  before  me,  I  must  look  away  from  "this 
mountain"  unto  "Jesus  the  author  and  perfecter 
of  our  faith." 

0  tJjou  tofjo  bibst  ftalloto  cberp  place  bp 
rcberent  toor£(f)«P.  anb  to  toJjom  no  attitube  of 
tjeart  toag  legfi  t|)an  stacreb!  iHdap  J(  substitute 
no  trabition  of  tfjc  fathers  foe  tljp  bolp  buill,  anb 
permit  no  sacreb  place  or  custom  to  conceal  tfjc 
glorp  of  ti)p  bibine  person! 


FEBRUARY    TWENTY-EIGHT 


EToljit  4:  24.  <Sob  is;  a  Spirit:  anb  tftcp 
tfjat  b)oc£(i)ip  tint  mus;t  tnocgijtp  in  £fpirit  anti 
ttutf). 

F  the  woman  of  Samaria  had  listened,  she  might' 
have  heard  the  chimes  in  the  unseen  heavenly 
temple  ushering  in  the  hour  of  spiritual 
worship.  That  day  had  long  been  dawning. 
Prophets  beheld  it  from  afar.  Moses  saw  it  and 
was  glad.  The  blood  of  countless  sacrifices,  and 
the  waters  of  a  million  washings,  were  waiting 
for  that  day.  When  that  hour  struck,  the  eternal 
God  broke  through  all  the  barriers  of  flesh  and 
sense  and  revealed  himself  to  man,  his  child,  by 
spiritual  tokens,  which  only  a  kindred  spirit  could 
discern. 

The  Sun  of  spiritual  monotheism  emerged  as 
the  dawn  over  the  hills  of  darkness,  driving  out 
the  shadowy  rites   and  filling  the  hearts  of  his 

redeemed  children  with  the  light  of  his  presence. 

-$^ 
"God  is  a  Spirit,  infinite,  eternal,  and  un- 
changeable, in  his  being,  wisdom,  power,  holiness, 
justice,  goodness,  and  truth."  I  would  make 
this  ancient  symbol  of  the  faith  my  own  to-day 
and  worship  and  bow  down  before  my  Maker 
and  my  God.  Whether  in  stately  temple  or  in 
the  ^secret  chamber  of  my  solitude,  I  would 
worship  him  "in  spirit  and  in  truth." 

-^ 
0  tfjou  before  tDftom  atcbangelsf  bcil  tfjeir 
tciceil  (@rant  me  tlje  confibcnce  of  £tpiritual 
autsa  to  iffn  tbist  berp  moment,  anb  albiapsc, 
tjjrougl)  ti)j»  inbbJcUins  l^olp  S>pitit.  anb  for  tlje 
gabe  of  Sfefiug  Cljrijst,  mp  Horbl 


FEBRUARY     TWENTY-NINE 


3Jof)n  4:  25,  26.  31  fenoto  tftat  jHegsial) 
cornet^.  .  .  .  SFesujf  fiaitlj  unto  Jjer,  3  tljat 
sipeab  unto  tfjee  am  i)C- 


™^HIS  added  day  of  grace  that  befalls  my 
lot  but  now  and  then,  can  bring  to  me 
no  brighter  glory  than  the  flood  tide  that 
poured  upon  the  soul  of  the  woman  of 
Samaria  when  she  found  the  Christ. 

"I  know  that  Messiah  cometh."  That  was  her 
faith  down  underneath  her  sin  and  shame;  the 
kernel  of  trust  wrapped  in  the  husks  of  tradition. 
To  become  a  saving  faith  it  needed  to  be  brought 
forth  and  unfolded.  Only  he  could  do  that  who 
was  its  heaven-ordained  object.  There  is  no  sim- 
pler passage  in  the  Word  of  God  than  that  which 
tells  how  Jesus  revealed  his  glory  to  this  sinful 
soul.   . 

It  may  be  mine  to  live  this  day  in  the  midst  of 
uncertainties  and  fears;  tormented  by  doubts  and 
dread  of  ill.  If  only  I  may  have  as  simple  grace 
with  which  to  say  "I  know  that  Messiah  cometh," 
as  did  the  woman  of  old,  he  will  surely  draw  near 
to  me  even  in  the  midst  of  the  gloom,  and  say, 
"I  that  speak  unto  thee  am  he." 

0  ti)ou  faobo  reckonesft  time  upon  tije  btal  of 
eternitp,  tof)ofie  Kun  i&  cber  at  its  jcnitf)!  3 
tJjanb  tfjcc  for  ti)i&  abbeb  bap  of  life,  anb  for 
f)im  totjom  tfjou  fjafit  anointeb  to  be  mp  Jfrienb 
anb  mp  B^cbeemerl 


MARCH    ONE 


3foJjn  4:  27.  Slnb  upon  tijis  came  tie;  bijf- 
ciplcs;  anb  tl)cp  marbellclj  tjjat  be  boas  speak- 
ins  b}itb  a  tuoman;  pet  no  man  siatb,  iiijat 
£eeke£(t  tl)ou?  or,  9Hi)p  fipeaUest  t{)ou  tQiti)  t)ec? 

'HEY  marveled  at  the  unaccountable 
Christ!  I  marvel  also  that  Peter  did 
not  say  to  the  woman,  "What  seekest 
thou?"    and    to   Christ,    "Why   speakest 


thou  with  her?"  It  would  have  been  like  Peter 
and  like  me.  Yet  even  the  disciples  held  their, 
tongues.  Jesus  withdrew  with  the  woman  into 
a  room  of  pure  and  sacred  confidence  whose  door 
not  even  a  disciple's  hand  was  permitted  to  open. 
The  Master  would  not  violate  the  sanctity  of 
even  so  frail  and  sinful  a  soul  as  hers. 

-^- 
Have  the  days  of  marveling  ceased?  Is  he  any 
less  the  unaccountable  Christ  now  than  then? 
Are  there  not  men  and  women  concerning  whom 
I  am  not  sure,  who  may  be,  none  the  less,  in  most 
intimate  fellowship  with  him?  God  forbid  that 
by  word  or  look  I  should  dare  to  offend  one  of  the 
least  into  w^iose  life  he  may  have  entered,  all 
unknown  to  me.  I,  too,  marvel  at  thy  ministries 
of  mercy,  thou  unaccountable  Christ.  May  I 
as  truly  trust  thee,  where  I  cannot  understand, 
as  did  thy  bewildered  disciples  of  old! 

<D  tfjou  tuljosc  toapg  are  IjiBfter  tljan  mp 
fcaaps;,  Inbojse  tfjougbtB;  ttjan  mp  tf)oug!)ts!  iWap 
mp  marbcling  neber  become  murmuring,  but 
cber  leaii  me  to  praise  anb  perfect  trust! 


MARCH    TWO 


Sfofjn  4:  28.  ^o  tije  tuoman  left  t)cr  tnatet- 
pot.  anti  taaent  abtiap  into  tije  cttp. 

N  the  joy  of  her  new-found  hope  she  first  for- 
got everything  but  him.  She  was  not  too 
proud  to  carry  her  waterpot  back  again. 
She  must  come  again  and  get  it,  but  what 
was  the  waterpot  and  what  was  the  toil  of  another 
trip  when  weighed  in  the  balance  with  him  who 
gave  to  her  the  water  of  life? 

The  genuineness  of  her  faith  is  also  attested  by 
her  willingness  to  go  back  to  those  who  knew  her, 
to  him  who  wronged  her;  to  return  a  changed 
woman  to  the  scenes  of  her  old  life.  She  must 
have  thought,  even  in  the  ecstasy  of  her  joy,  of 
the  readjustments  of  her  life  that  would  become 
inevitable.  As  an  arrow  to  its  mark  did  her 
quickened  conscience  speed  her  on  her  homeward 
way. 

It  may  be  that  Christ  will  deal  with  me  this 
day  as  I  stand  beside  the  waterpot  of  traffic  and 
trade  or  household  toil.  Shall  I  be  as  courageous 
and  as  faithful  as  the  one  of  old,  to  go  back  into 
the  circle  of  those  who  know  me  best,  to  testify 
what  great  things  Jesus  has  done  for  me? 

€>  HorlJ,  tf)ou  bost  mafec  tfjc  timib  soul  Jjeroit 
in  itg  faitl)  anlJ  gerbitc!  (6ibc  mc  courage  to 
toitnecfg  foe  tijee  i\)\i  bap.  before  tijogc  tobo 
bnota)  me  bedt! 


MARCH     THREE 


STotn  4:    28,   29.     ^o   tfjc  tuoman  .  .  . 
jEtattt)  to  ti)c  people,  Come,  &tt  a  man,  toijo  tolb 
me  all  t|)ins£i  tf)at  ebet  3  titli:  can  ti)iii  be  tije 
Cttist? 

-«^ 

TT  TfER  testimony  concerning  Christ  hinged 
L___  upon  Christ's  disclosure  of  herself.  If 
I  he  had  not  told  her  all  things  that  ever 

^  ^  she  did,  she  would  not  have  said  "Come, 
see."  If  Jesus  had  not  also  touched  some  hidden 
spring  of  hope  in  her  life,  he  would  not  have 
made  her  bold  to  be  his  witness.  It  was  because 
he  fanned  into  a  flame  the  spark  which  he  had 
kindled  in  the  midst  of  the  ashes  of  her  burned- 
out  life,  that  she  became  ablaze  with  eagerness  to 
bring  others  to  him. 

My  life,  too,  has  its  hidden  guilt.  This  he  will 
disclose  with  a  relentless  probe.  He  will  also 
unstop  and  bring  to  light  a  wellspring  of  hope. 
I  will  not  fear  the  record  of  an  evil  past,  because 
his  cross  has  redeemed  it.  His  presence  will 
kindle  within  my  breast  the  faith  that  promises 
an  inheritance  "with  the  saints  in  glory."  "Can 
this  be  the  Christ?" 


'Finding,  following,  keeping,  struggling, 

Is  he  sure  to  bless? 
Saints,  apostles,  prophets,  martyrs, 
Answer,  'Yes!'" 

tEljou  art  tf)c  Cfjrist,  0  ^on  of  tfje  Itbins 
(Sob!  Jieliebing,  map  3  fjabc  life  ttjrougf)  tf)p 
name! 


MARCH  FOUR 


3Jol)n  4:  31,  32.  2ln  ttc  mean  tobilc  tfje 
l)igtiplej(  prapeb  i)im,  gaping,  J^abfai,  eat.  Put 
i)c  gaib  unto  tljcm,  31  taUc  meat  to  eat  tfjat  pc 
l^nobo  not. 

"'^THE  disciples'  solicitude  was  both  natural 
and  worthy.  While  he  waited  by  the 
well,  they  had  gone  into  the  village  to 
buy  bread.     When   they   returned   with 


food  they  spread  it  before  him,  saying,  "Rabbi, 
eat." 

Jesus  did  not  rebuke  them  though  he  filled 
them  with  the  amazement  of  awe.  He  did  not 
refuse  the  food  because  it  was  not  good,  but 
because  he  had  other  meat  of  which  they  knew 
not.  While  they  were  buying  their  daily  bread 
in  a  village  of  Samaria,  he  was  breaking  the  Bread 
of  Life  to  the  woman  of  Samaria. 

My  daily  toil  may  send  me  hunger  to-day,  but 
hunger  of  heart.  To  those  who  would  supply  my 
need  from  some  earthly  store,  whether  of  plea'sure 
or  work,  may  I  be  enabled  to  say,  "I  have  meat 
to  eat  that  ye  know  not."  What  others  would 
buy  for  me  in  the  marts  of  trade,  God  is  breaking 
to  me  upon  the  table  that  he  has  furnished,  even 
in  the  presence  of  my  foes. 

0  tfjou  tijf)o,  fecbins  tJje  fjungrp  goul,  tfjp- 
gelf  toagt  feb!  <^ik)e  me  grace  tijig  bap  to  breafa 
tf)e  ISreab  of  ILife  to  fiome  (amisfjeb  cfjilb.  anb 
tiua  to  be  feb  mp^eU  tuttt)  tj^e  breab  ttjat  comcti) 
boton  from  fjeaben! 


MARCH    FIVE 


STofjtt  4:  33.  tEftc  bigciplcg  therefore  iaih 
one  to  anotljer,  ^ati)  anp  man  brougi)t  i)im 
augtjt  to  cat? 

•$^ 

""^HEY  were  reasoning  in  the  cramped  circle 
of  their  httle  faith.  Man  loomed  large 
before  them,  and  their  Master  did  not 
yet    overtower.     He    had    been    hungry 


but  he  would  not  eat.  They  were  imprisoned 
in  a  mystery,  so  they  made  a  vain  effort  to  escape 
by  beating  their  heads  against  the  stone  wall  of 
doubt.  Their  perplexity  grew  as  they  looked 
away  from  Jesus  and  sought  to  measure  strange 
footprints  in  the  sands.  They  could  not  find  a 
crumb  by  the  well  side  or  upon  the  way.  Even 
if  an  angel  had  fed  him,  there  must  have  dropped 
some  tell-tale  feathers  from  his  wings.  If,  instead 
of  looking  all  about  them,  at  each  other,  at  the 
vacant  pilgrim  path,  they  had  only  looked  with 
eyes  of  faith  upon  Jesus,  they  would  have  dis- 
covered the  open  door  of  the  mystery  in  the  joy  of 
his  lustrous  eyes. 

I,  too,  must  walk  the  path  my  Master  trod, 
upon  a  weary  way.  Men  seeing  strength  and  cour- 
age in  me,  which  they  are  not  prepared  to  find, 
may  say  to  one  another,  "Hath  any  man  given 
him'aught  to  eat?"   No  man,  0  Lord,  but  thou! 

0  t(]OU  of  tf)e  circle  of  toijoge  tots;bom  our 
unberstanbing  ifi  but  a  broken  segment!  titeacij 
me  tfjis  bap  tftat  man  sfjall  not  Itbc  bp  breab 
alone  but  bp  eberp  boorb  tljat  proceebetlj  out  of 
tbc  moutl)  of  <5ob.  <©ibe  me  mp  bailp  breab, 
for  Sfesus'  sabe! 


MARCH  SIX 


STofjn  4:  34.     3ftini  ssaitf)  unto  tfjcm,  jUlp 
meat  is:  to  bo  ti)e  tsill  of  i)im  ti)at  Kent  me,  anb 
to  actompliai)  t)i!i  toork. 
■^^ 

==^HE  secret  was  out.  It  was  not  by  eating 
and  drinking,  but  by  doing,  that  Jesus' 
hunger  was  appeased.  Yet  it  was  not 
mere   "doing"    that   fed   his   inner   Ufe. 


Men  often  mistake  the  motions  of  Ufe,  mere 
"doing,"  for  the  fundamental  and  the  final  doing, 
which  is  to  do  the  will  of  God.  Jesus  fed  upon 
the  will  of  God  by  doing  it.  He  took  infinite 
life  into  the  processes  of  his  earthly  existence  by 
appropriating,  through  implicit  obedience,  the 
vital  energy  of  the  will  of  God.  Hunger  is  but 
the  craving  of  a  life  process  that  has  been  spent. 
Jesus  fed  upon  the  hidden  manna  of  the  will  of 
God.     He  was  always  spending  but  never  spent. 

-^^ 
■  I  shall  doubtless  hunger  this  day.  The  proc- 
esses of  my  spirit,  being  spent,  will  clamor  for 
new  blood  and  tissue.  Is  my  intimacy  with 
Jesus  such  that  I  delight  to  feed  upon  the  meat 
that  met  his  wants?  The  will  of  God  will  take 
away  my  hunger  to-day  if  I  will  but  feed  upon 
his  will  by  doing  it.  Then  will  God's  will  become 
my  meat  and  drink. 

^  tijou  tDt)0£(e  beltgljt  boag  to  bo  tije 
jFatljer'K  toill!  ?i[?elp  me  to  fecb  upon  tijp 
Ijolp  toill!  ^atisfp  mp  Ijunarp  moutlj  toitlj  tfjp 
Qoobneifs;! 


MARCH    SEVEN 


SToljn  4:  35.  ^ap  not  pe,  tlTfjcrc  arc  pet  four 
montfjs,  anb  tfjen  comctf)  tfjc  tarbcst?  befjollj, 
3  £fap  unto  pou,  ILift  up  pour  t^ea,  anb  look 
on  t[)c  fiellDS,  tfjat  ttjcp  arc  tofjitc  alreabp  unto 
I)arbe£(t. 

^^ 

'HERE  are  seasons  in  nature  and  seasons 
in  grace.  In  four  months  "cometh  the 
harvest"  of  grain;  in  God's  own  time, 
which  is    "the  everlasting  now,"   is  the 


harvest  of  grace.  There  is  sowing  and  watering, 
plowing  and  reaping  in  both,  but  the  "times  and 
the  seasons"  of  refreshing  from  on  high  are  in 
God's  own  hand. 

Was  there  ever  so  pitiful  a  prospect  for  an 
ingathering  of  souls  into  his  Kingdom  as  that 
which  Jesus  then  confronted?  One  sinful  woman, 
a  hostile  Samaritan  village,  a  pilgrim  path,  and 
a  band  of  willing  but  undisciplined  disciples! 
What  feeble  portents  of  a  bountiful  harvest! 
Yet  Jesus  saw  golden  fields  ready  for  the  reaper. 
He  beheld  a  village  of  garnered  souls. 

-$^ 

I,  too,  reckon  harvests  of  grace  in  terms  of 
nature.  "The  Week  of  Prayer,"  "The  Season  of 
Lent,"  "The  Easter  Communion,"  "The  Fall 
Rally."  These  are  set  times  for  spiritual  refresh- 
ing;^ while  the  Lord  of  the  harvest  is  always  crying, 
"White  fields  are  ready!    Thrust  in  thy  sickle 

and  reap!" 

'^- 
0  ttjou  tDl)o  bibst  set  a  golben  fjarbest  in 
prospects  tbat  men  tooulb  ftabc  callcb  barren! 
(gibe  me  tf)p  bision  of  tobite  fielbs,  ebcn  in  tfjc 
besert  bjap  of  bailp  butp!  Jflap  3  ebcr  be  tbp 
faithful  tusbanbman! 


MARCH   EIGHT 


IToljn  4:  36.  fie  tfjat  rcapctf)  rcccibetfj 
toagcst,  anb  gatftcrctlb  fruit  unto  life  eternal; 
tfjat  te  tj)at  fioboett)  anti  tie  tJjat  rcapetfj  map  re- 
joice tosettjer. 

-^^ 

==^HE  reaper  does  not  own  the  field,  nor 
does  the  sower,  but  the  Lord  of  the 
harvest.  The  sower  has  a  recompense 
with    his    sowing.      The    reaper  receives 


wages  while  he  reaps.  The  harvest  is  in  heaven 
in  order  that  the  reaper  and  the  sower  may  have 
like  joy. 

What  an  unreaped  harvest  even  the  Master 
was  content  to  leave!  His  chosen  few  could  not 
begin  to  garner  all  the  golden  grain,  nor  can  we. 
Lest  we  should  become  weary  in  well-doing  and 
faint  before  the  harvest  time,  he  gives  abundant 
wages  in  the  coin  of  his  realm.  More  lavish 
than  the  one  who  distributes  millions  among  those 
who  serve  him  is  the  Lord  of  the  harvest  of  grace, 
who  gives  the  gold  and  silver  tokens  of  his  joy 
and  peace  and  certified  checks  for  limitless  grace 
upon  the  bank  of  heaven. 

I  would  be  a  reaper  to-day  in  the  King's  harvest 
field.  What  though  I  grow  faint  in  the  sweat  of 
my  brow?  The  wages  are  worth  while  to-day. 
To-morrow,  blessed  day,  will  be  the  joy  of  the 
heavenly  harvest. 

0  tfjou  tuljo  geefeest  toasc=earning  toorfeersi 
for  tf)p  barbegt  ficlli!  jWap  3  toil  faittjfullp  tf)i£( 
bap,  reteibing  tf)P  gracious  cartfjlp  recompense 
at  ebentibe,  anb  atoaiting,  in  tlje  Jfatljer's  time, 
tfje  iop  of  ftarbefit  Ijome! 


MARCH    NINE 


SToljn  4:  38.  3  gent  pou  to  reap  tfjat  totjcre- 
on  pe  tatie  not  laboceti:  otijerst  fjatie  laboreb,  anli 
pe  are  entercti  into  ttjeir  labor. 

'HIS  is  exalting  truth,  although  it  punctures 
pride.  It  discloses  the  hidden  chain  of 
service  by  means  of  which  my  life  is 
linked,  with  the  lives  of  others,  to  the 


divine  purpose.  The  prophets  had  been  sowing, 
and  also  the  law.  The  promises  of  God  had  been 
scattered  broadcast.  Desire  and  hope  had  been 
carried  on  the  wings  of  the  wind  and  implanted 
in  a  myriad  human  breasts.  Then,  in  the  fullness 
of  time,  the  Lord  sent  laborers  to  reap  what  they 
did  not  sow. 

He  sends  me  into  the  field  of  toil,  and,  lo! 
golden  grain  is  at  my  right  hand.  I  thrust  in 
the  sickle  and  reap.  It  may  be  that  the  seed 
was  lodged  in  a  once  barren  heart  by  some  humble 
hand  in  the  forgotten  past.  God  has  given  the 
increase.  How  hard  it  is,  my  soul,  to  let  others 
reap  where  I  have  sown;  how  easy  to  reap  where 
others  have  sown;  how  needful  for  me  to  know 
that  God  only  is  Lord  of  the  harvest!  Let 
arrogance  and  pride  be  put  to  flight,  and  let  dis- 
couragement and  despair  be  taken  captive;  let 
me  sow  or  reap  where  and  when  the  Master  wills! 

-^ 
€>  TLatii  of  tfje  fjarbest!  <©ibe  tfjc  increase 
to=bap  —  to  me,  if  anb  tofjcre  tftou  geest  best;  to 
anotter,  if  it  pleasetf)  ttjce.  Put  gibe  tlje  in- 
crease, tijat  t^e  ijarbest  fail  not,  eben  ttougi) 
men  fail! 


MARCH     TEN 


3Iol)n4:  39,  4l!  Snb  .  .  .  manp  .  .  .  fae= 
liebcb  on  tjim  because  of  tJje  toorlJ  of  tjje  tooman, 
buljo  testificb,  .  .  .  anb  manp  mote  facUcbcb  ht- 
cau£(e  of  ijt££  toocb. 

'HE  witness  cannot  usurp  the  place  of  the 
advocate.  It  is  not  the  duty  of  the 
witness  to  plead  a  cause,  but  to  testify. 
All  the  preaching  since  Pentecost  would 


not  have  won  a  single  soul,  unless  the  divine 
Advocate  had  pleaded  his  cause.  The  Samaritan 
woman  would  have  made  a  poor  pleader.  She 
was,  in  the  phrase  of  the  courts,  a  star  witness. 
Her  testimony  was  used  to  beget  belief,  but  many 
more  believed  because  of  his  word. 

It  is  always  so.  My  testimony  of  Christ,  if  it 
be  sincere  and  steadfast,  may  be  the  word  upon 
which  the  great  Advocate  hangs  his  case.  My 
witness  ought  to  be  so  strong  and  convincing  that 
men  and  women  will  beheve  because  of  the  testi- 
mony of  my  lips  and  life.  Better  than  my  testi- 
mony is  the  witness  of  Jesus  himself.  Let  him  be 
both  Advocate  and  Witness!  His  words  pro- 
claimed with  power  and  tenderness  will  bring 
many  more  to  believe  in  him. 

0  ti)ou  toto  bibfft  tuitnesfs;  a  goob  confesfgion 
before  IDontius  |3ilate!  illap  31  so  testifp  of 
tf)ce  tfjig  bap  tfjat  men  map  faelicbe  on  tljcc. 
WiiM  tl)ou  algo  tejstifp  anb  fap  t|)p  $jolp  ^pitit 
rebcal  tfjp  nebcr-failing  toorbg,  go  tfjat  manp 
more  map  make  tjjeir  eternal  tljoice  of  tljce  tfjig 
bap! 


MARCH  ELEVEN 


STofjn  4:   43.     SInb  after  tfjc  ttoo  iaps  |)C 
tucnt  fortf)  from  tljcnce  into  <©alilec. 

JfT  was  not  a  large  evangelistic  campaign,  but 
it  was  a  successful  one.  It  began  by  the 
wayside.  It  spread  until  the  whole  village 
was  at  the  feet  of  Jesus.  He  stayed  just  two 
days,  and  then  continued  his  appointed  course 
into  Galilee.  It  was  indeed  a  "wayside  ministry," 
but  of  what  eternal  significance  to  those  unto 
whom  it  was  given! 

Shall  I  continue  to  measure  the  meaning  of 
events  by  days  and  years?  A  week-end  spent  in 
some  unlikely  place,  but  in  the  service  of  the 
Master,  may  be  as  meaningful  as  though  it  were 
a  year.  With  Christ  I,  too,  must  continue  on 
my  way  to  Galilee,  to  the  place  where  it  may  be 
hardest  to  minister  in  his  name  because  my  name 
is  known.  May  my  heart  be  grateful  for  a 
Samaritan  oasis  upon  the  way  to  Galilee;  for  a 
two  days'  mission  upon  which  he  may  have  sent 
me  on  my  way  to  larger  things.  Whether  in 
Samaria  or  in  Galilee,  for  a  day  or  for  a  year,  may 
my  witness  be  of  him! 

-^ 

©  tfjou  tufjo  djooscst  mp  patfj!   (Sibe  me  grace 

^  to  tarrp  toten  aniJ  tobere  tljou  tiost  appoint,  ani 

to   go   fortaarb  at  tljp  call!    illap   tfjis;  bap'sf 

minigtrp,  toljetljer  in  billagc  or  citp,  or  far  aficlb, 

be  obinel)  of  tt)ee! 


MARCH  TWELVE 


3fof)n  4:  44.  jf ot  3}t&ui  ijimetlt  tegtifieb, 
tliat  a  proptjet  tati)  no  tonoc  in  i^is  oton  countrp. 

"^  T  is  not  so  much  this  wise  maxim  that  interests 
me,  as  Jesus'  witness  to  the  truth  it  contains. 
No  hero  ever  ran  so  varied  a  gamut  of  recogni- 
tion, praise,  opposition  and  indifference  as 
did  he.  Truly,  "He  came  unto  his  own,  and  they 
that  were  his  own  received  him  not."  His  witness 
in  this  case  is  convincing  proof  that  he  was  not 
a  prodigy.  His  early  Ufe  was  genuinely  human. 
"Is  not  this  Joseph's  son?"  He  recognized  early 
in  his  ministry  the  handicap  that  would  be  his  in 
the  midst  of  those  who  knew  him  before  his  pubhc 
career  began. 

The  recognition  of  this  truth  will  be  as  whole- 
some for  me  as  it  may  be  unwelcome.  If  my  lot 
is  cast  in  the  Galilee  of  my  youth,  where  busy- 
bodies  point  their  fingers  and  wag  their  heads  at 
me,  may  I  also  have  the  Master's  courage  and 
patience,  and,  best  of  all,  his  purity"  of  heart, 
wherewith  to  disarm  the  suspicion  of  those  of  my 
"own  country." 

<B  tfjou  <§ob  of  tfjc  falesfstb  countrp  toficre 
tf)P  propfjcts!  arc  cber  Ijonorcb!  jHafaE  me  faitfj- 
ful  in  tije  lanb  of  mp  pilgrimage  to  ijonor  tl)tt, 
in  orber  ttjat  31  map  be  i)onoreb  of  ti]ee  in  tte 
better  lanb! 


MARCH   THIRTEEN 


STofjn  4:  45.  ®tc  <galilean£(  receibcli  fjim, 
fjabing  seen  all  tftc  ttings  tljat  fje  bill  in  Efcru- 
falem  at  tije  feasft. 


^^HEY  had  heard  of  the  miracle  at  Cana 
and  some  of  them  had  seen  it.  Yet  the 
impression  that  it  made  upon  them  was 
an  impression  of  suspicion  and  unbeHef. 
It  was  only  after  they  saw  His  signs  and  wonders 
in  Jerusalem  and  heard  his  popular  words  at  the 
public  feast  that  they  were  willing  to  receive  him. 
It  is  not  different  to-day.  The  village  pastor 
has  no  charms,  but  the  city  preacher  whom  one 
hears  once  in  a  lifetime  is  wonderful.  There  is 
no  appeal  in  the  routine  of  teaching  little  children 
and  guiding  the  youth  and  reaching  the  lost  in 
our  own  community.  We  must  go  to  some 
distant  city  and  become  a  part  of  a  great  religious 
movement  or  attend  a  laymen's  banquet,  before 
we  will  hear  and  heed  what  Jesus  says.  The 
church  must  stage  some  spectacular  drama  before 
the  world  will  heed  its  claims. 

^^ 
Has  Christ  not  done   enough   for  me   in   the 
secret  chambers  of  my  heart  to  make  me  praise 
him   through  endless  ages,   no  matter  what  his 
ministry  has  been  in  some  public  place? 

•«^ 

<^  t{)ou  tDbo  {)a£(t  bone  great  tijingfi  at  tlje 
public  feagt!  tlT^ou  fjasct  bone  great  ttingg  foe 
me,  fcotereot  3  am  glab.  ifflap  3  reccibe  tf)ec, 
but  not  asf  tljoge  of  (Galilee  b)i)o  baaiteb  tajorb 
from  STerusalem!  iHap  3  onlp  atoait  tlje  toocb 
of  ttjp  Spirit  bjit})in  mp  Ijcart. 


MARCH  FOURTEEN 


3loi)n  4:  46.  H^t  came  tfjereforc  again 
unto  Cana  of  <©aUIce,  tojjerc  fje  mabc  tjjc 
toater  tnine.  3nb  t|)crc  toas  a  certain  noble- 
man, b)t]Ode  £(on  toad  gick  at  Capernaum. 

'HAT  a  procession  of  earthly  celebrities 
crossed  the  pilgrim  path  of  Jesus! 
Many  of  them  were  engaged  in  great 
enterprises,  and  some  of  them  held 
human  destinies  in  their  hands.  Governors, 
rulers,  centurions  and  king's  officers  —  these  and 
many  more  passed  by  Jesus  of  Nazareth.  It  is 
significant  that  only  those  who  turned  aside  from 
their  own  paths  to  walk  with  him,  as  did  the 
nobleman,  are  remembered  to-day.  Their  earthly 
importance  is  gone;  they  live  only  as  they  were 
linked  to  Jesus  Christ. 

It  is  so  to-day.  Behold  the  captains  of  in- 
dustry, the  leaders  of  the  nations,  the  princes  and 
princesses  of  society!  They  are  rushing  to  and 
fro  upon  their  own  vast  affairs  —  when  lo  —  they 
are  not,  and  Jesus  rides  on  in  his  triumphal  way! 
"Oh,  where  are  kings  and  empires  now 
Of  old  that  went  and  came?" 
I  would  make  my  way  his  way,  to-day  and  always! 

-^ 
0  tf)OU  tDfjo  art  tije  Ijoliest  among  tfje 
migttp!  iWap  3  put  mp  trust  in  tljec  anb  not 
in  princes!  jHap  no  fear  of  eartf)lp  potentates 
oberatoe  me,  nor  anp  I'ealousp  because  of  tbeir 
sf)ort=libcb  potoer  possess  me,  as  31  toalb  bp  tijp 
sibe,  tljou  conquering  ilinB.  mp  ^abiour  anb  mp 
frienb! 


MARCH  FIFTEEN 


3rot)n  4:  47.  iHljen  fjc  fjearb  tfjat  3tini 
teas  tome  out  of  STubae  into  (Salilcc,  fjc  tocnt 
unto  tim,  anti  facgougbt  5im  tfjat  f)c  tooulb  tome 
boton.  anb  fjcal  fjis  gon;  foe  fjc  toag  at  the 
point  of  beatf). 

•«^ 
^HERE  was  no  telephone,  no  telegraph 
and  no  daily  press,  but  the  good  news 
spread  by  word  of  mouth.  Jesus  was 
not  far  away.  The  nobleman  did  not 
send;  he  came.  Even  that  was  faith.  A  father 
would  not  have  left  a  son  who  was  at  the  point  of 
death  even  for  two  days,  unless  he  had  beheved 
that  Jesus  could  heal  him  if  he  would.  It  must 
however,  have  been  an  anxious  day  as  he  went 
away  from  his  boy  —  but  he  was  going  to  Jesus. 

I,  too,  have  had  my  hour  of  deep  distress  The 
pomt  of  death  may  even  now  be  entering  mv 
heart  through  some  languishing  loved  one.  How 
can  I  turn  my  face  away  from  the  bed  of  pain 
whereon  my  beloved  suffers?  If  I  will  but  turn 
my  heart  to  Jesus,   who   to-day  is   nearer  than 

rT.^      r^      ^'  ^^^^  ^^  ^^^"  t>y  my  side,  I  will 
imd  that  hfe  and  love  are  stronger  than  death! 

^^ 
0  tfjou  tofjo  tallest  tfjp  tfjilbrcn  from  tfje 
cjamfaer  of  grief  into  tJjp  setret  place  of  pcatel 
m'b  mp  anxious  fears  bissolbe  tfjis  bap  as  3 
commit  to  tJjec  all  tJjat  3  Jjabc  anb  lobe  I 


MARCH  SIXTEEN 


3io\)n  4:  48.  STcbus  tf)crefore  saib  unto 
f)tm,  except  pe  gee  fiigng  anb  tnonticrfi,  j»e  toill 
in  no  toise  faeliebc. 

T70W  could  Jesus  be  so  heartless!  An 
anxious  father  pleading  for  the  life  of 
his  son  to  receive  such  a  blow  in  the  face! 
Jesus  was  not  heartless.  He  was  only 
"sifting  out  the  hearts  of  men  before  his  judgment 
seat."  He  was  condemning  the  Pharisee  that 
had  no  consciousness  of  need,  that  sought  him 
only  to  entrap  him.  He  was  calling  forth  the 
father's  love  and  faith,  in  an  atmosphere  of  deceit 
and  unbehef,  which  Jesus  was  purifying  by  his 
presence. 

This  test  of  true  faith  is  not  obsolete.  Men 
are  ready  to  argue  the  articles  of  the  creeds,  to 
debate  the  miracles  and  the  gospel  records. 
They  still  want  to  see  signs  and  wonders,  and 
they  still  linger  in  unbelief.  It  is  only  those  who 
come  to  Jesus  with  heavy,  hungry  hearts,  who 
are  comforted  and  fed. 

If,  out  of  a  sincere  sense  of  need,  I  turn  to  Jesus 
this  day,  he  will  not  —  cannot  turn  me  away. 
He  may  test  me,  but  he  will  surely  bless  me! 

0  tJjou  tof)o  bibfiJt  gtorn  tfte  fjppotriteg  abobe 
meagure!  Cbou  bost  neber  turn  aboap  one 
ginglc,  gecbing  goul.  3t  is  not  a  sign  or  a 
bjonber  tfjat  3  ask  to=bap,  but  t!)p  forgibing, 
fjcaling  toorb  of  life.  3  facliebe;  Jjclp  tf)ou  mp 
unbelief. 


MARCH  SEVENTEEN 


SToljn  4:  49.     tEljc  nofalcman  gaitfj  unto  bim, 
Sdix,  come  boton  ere  mp  tljilb  bie. 

'HIS  is  direct  discourse.  It  is  the  appeal 
of  desperation,  but  desperation  becomes 
faith  when  it  clings  to  God.  The  noble- 
man did  not  have  time  to  argue;   he  did 


not  have  the  heart  to  justify  himself;  he  could 
only  plead.  Powerful  as  his  entreaty  was,  the 
great  yearning  was  not  in  his  heart,  but  in  Christ's. 
The  Master  was  seeking  him  more  eagerly  than 
he  was  seeking  the  Master. 

-§^ 
God  may  withhold  blessings  from  me  when  my 
petition  is  voiced  in  the  tone  of  convention  or 
commonplace.  It  is  only  when  my  heartstrings 
are  attuned  to  concert  pitch  and  I  cry  out  in  the 
anguish  of  hope. which  sees  in  Christ  the  first  and 
the  last  resort  of  help,  that  the  harmonies  of  peace 
with  God  are  made  possible.  I  have  needs  this 
day  that  may  be  as  desperate  as  that  of  the 
heart-torn  nobleman.  If  only  I  will  put  my 
plea  in  as  simple  and  sincere  phrase  as  did  he, 
saying  "Lord  bless  me,  ere  I  perish!"  the  Master 
will  graciously  answer  me.  If  I  seek  him,  he 
will  surely  find  me. 

•«^ 
<D  ICorb  mp  i^clper!  iflafee  fjagte  anb  belibcr 
me,  lot  in  tftce  alone  bo  31  put  mp  trust,  tf)ou 
tofjo  art  mp  ^trengtlj  anb  mp  l^ebeemer! 


MARCH  EIGHTEEN 


STofjn  4:  50.  3ti\xi  gaitf)  unto  Ijtm,  ^o  tfjp 
toap:  tbp  son  libctf).  tKfje  man  facUebeb  tftc 
tDorb  ti)at  3^e£(usi  sfpake  unto  l)itn,  anb  i)e  tnent 
tifi  toap. 

TT  TTOW  mighty  was  the  spoken  word  of 
L__^  Jesus!  It  healed  the  boy  and  it  also 
conquered  the  nobleman.  It  was  not 
^  ^  the  word  the  latter  had  expected.  It 
was  his  purpose  to  take  Jesus  in  the  flesh  to 
Capernaum.  He  was  bold  enough  to  match  his 
will  against  the  will  of  Christ,  when  by  a  word  the 
Master  put  an  end  to  his  striving,  and  gave  him 
even  a  better  answer  than  he  sought.  The 
nobleman  came  to  Cana  burdened  with  care;  he 
returned  to  Capernaum  laden  with  blessing. 

If  only  I  might  learn  the  secret  of  so  satisfying 
an  approach  to  the  Master!  First,  desperate 
need  and  a  deep  consciousness  of  need.  Second, 
looking  only  to  Jesus  for  help.  Third,  believing 
his  word  as  though  it  had  been  spoken  to  me 
first  and  only.  These  are  the  steps  upon  my 
pathway  to  blessing.  With  unfaltering  trust  in 
Christ,  even  though  his  test  of  my  sincerity  be  as 
rigid  as  that  with  which  he  tried  the  nobleman, 
I  would  seek  his  favor.  Seeking,-  I  shall  find. 
Believing,  I  shall  be  blessed. 


€>  ti)ou  tD{)os;e  tuocb  ii  qutt&  anb  potaicrful! 
Het  no  boubt  of  anp  toorb  of  tljinc  rob  mc  of  tijc 
blcs^stng  ti)ou  act  more  biilling;  to  gibe  tl)an  3 
am  to  receibe. 


MARCH  NINETEEN 


3Fof)n  4:  53.  •  ^o  tfjc  fatfjcr  fenctn  tljat  it  taasf 
at  tfjat  tjour  in  tofticij  3ti\ii  gaib  unto  Ijim,  QCljp 
£(on  libeti):  ant)  ^tm£>eU  bcliebeb,  anb  i)i£(  b)i)olc 
fjousee. 

A  STRIKING  coincidence!"  says  doubt. 
Faith  answers:  "A  striking  coincidence, 
with  Christ  at  its  center,  his  word  its 
energizing  radius,  the  estabhshment  of 
his  kingdom  in  a  human  home  its  circumference, 
this  is  not  a  mere  coincidence.  It  is  the  human 
event  of  a  divine  cause." 

There  are  such  cc^ncidences  in  my  own  life; 
events  which  require  more  than  a  casual  cause. 
How  futile  for  the  puny  logic  of  unbelief  to  at- 
tempt to  seal  all  the  divine  approaches  to  my 
soul  and  to  reckon  in  purely  human  terms  some 
mighty  spiritual  experience! 

I  would  not  waver  in  my  faith,  even  though  the 
path  of  guidance  be  uneventful  and  my  experience 
of  the  will  of  God  be  realized  only  through  a  calm 
and  quiet  confidence,  moment  by  moment.  Yet 
I  do  most  fervently  rejoice  in  those  outstanding 
events  of  consciousness  when  human  shadows 
fade  away  in  the  light  of  the  divine  presence. 

0  tfjou  tofjo  bibst  tommanb  faitfj  bj>  a  single 
toorb,  tljou  Dost  also  manifefit  tljp  potner  in 
ti\t  commonest  processes  of  tf)e  soul.  SUfjetJjer 
ttis  be  a  bap  consecrateb  to  unelicntful  toil  or 
one  to  be  ftallotoeb  bp  some  migbtp  tnorb,  map 
3  finb  tftec  at  its  center! 


MARCH  TWENTY 


3Soi)n  5:  I.  Siittt  tfjegc  tfjingsi  ttere  tnas  a 
feast  oC  tf)c  3ilt\oi;  anb  E^eKuss  tocnt  tip  to 
Sftxuaalem. 

GREAT  deal  hinges  historically  upon 
whether  it  was  "a"  feast  or  "the"  feast 
of  the  Jews.  The  probable  length  of 
Christ's  earthly  ministry  and  the  se- 
quence of  its  events  depend  upon  the  correct 
solution  of  this  problem.  It  is  not  this  problem 
that  confronts  me  to-day,  but  the  clear  record 
of  Christ's  conformity  to  the  religious  customs  of 
his  day.  No  man  more  than  he  has  ever  out- 
spokenly denounced  the  hypocrisy  of  meaningless 
rite.  No  man  was  freer  to  distinguish  between 
the  form  that  was  profitable  and  the  "letter" 
that  "killeth."  He  did  not  destroy  the  institu- 
tions of  his  day;  he  filled  them  with  new  life. 

My  spirit  may  chafe  at  the  forms  and  conven- 
tions of  religion.  The  tyranny  of  stated  seasons 
and  the  bondage  of  sacred  places  may  distress 
me.  Lest  I  should  destroy  the  good  with  that 
which  is  indifferent,  I  would  ponder  the  example 
of  my  Master,  who  went  up  to  Jerusalem  to  the 
feast.  I  would  be  moved  by  his  example  to  walk 
in  his  footsteps.  I  would  fulfill  the  letter  of  the 
law  by  living  in  its  spirit. 

0  tijou  tobo  in  tf)c  flcsf),  tranggrcsidng  tfjc 
trabitiong  of  tfjc  clbcrs.  bibst  biolatc  no  gingle 
labD  of  (@ob!  (^tbe  me  clear  btgion  t\)ii  bap  of 
mp  pati)  of  butp  ad  it  liesf  betbaeen  s^Iabisi)  con- 
focmttp  to,  anb  etUiali  inbepenbence  of,  all  form. 


MARCH  TWENTY-ONE 


3Iof)n  5:  2,  3.  i^oto  tftcre  is  in  3Icrusa- 
lem  fap  tlje  sfjccp  gate  a  pool,  toljicf)  is  callcti  in 
l^cfareb)  Pctfjesba.  ftaUing  fibc  portftcs.  3fn 
ti)e£>e  lap  a  muUitube  of  ti)em  tijat  tuere  sick, 
falinb,  fjalt,  toitfjcrcb. 

-^ 

^1 — N  OLK  still  flock  to  healing  springs.     The  pool 
^     of  Bethesda  doubtless  had  no  intrinsic  heal- 
ing virtue.     The  tradition  of  the  angel  which 
troubled  the  waters  (a.  v.)  is  not  recorded 


in  the  best  of  the  ancient  manuscripts.  There  was 
some  element  of  hidden  power  about  the  pool,  how- 
ever, that  always  filled  the  five  porches  with  a 
motley  throng  of  sick,  blind,  halt  and  withered. 
Compassion  toward  the  sick  and  the  disabled  was 
not  one  of  the  besetting  virtues  of  that  ancient 
time.  The  whole  system  of  modern  hospitals 
and  sanatoria  may  be  said  to  have  begun  when 
Jesus  stood  that  day  in  the  midst  of  the  incurables 
at  Bethesda's  pool. 

The  world  is  still  full  of  impotent  folk,  broken 
in  body,  baffled  in  mind,  smitten  of  soul,  waiting 
for  some  remedial  troubhng  of  the  waters.  Shall 
I  be  moved  with  less  than  a  Christlike  compas- 
sion as  I  behold  the  tragedy  of  broken  lives, 
waiting  in  vain  to  be  made  whole? 

0  tljou  tofjo  bibfit  tualb  in  tfjc  mibst  of  tfjc 
incurables,  toucf)ing  sigfjtless  cpes  tuitlj  ligbt, 
tDit|)ereb  tanbs  into  strengtf)  anb  febereb  i)tatt& 
into  Jjealtf)!  <&ibc  me  tljp  tolp  compassion  for 
tl)c  sin-brofeen  souls  in  tljc  mibst  of  tofjom  3 
map  bialk  t|)is  bap  I 


MARCH   TWENTY-TWO 


SToftn  5:  5.  Slnii  a  certain  man  toas  tfjerc, 
tQi)o  t^ti  been  ti)irtp  anb  etgt)t  pears;  in  t)i£( 
infirm  itp. 


^^HERE  is  a  valuable  vividness  about  par- 
ticular cases.  Many  times  it  is  re- 
corded that  Jesus  "healed  all  that  were 
sick."  We  usually  turn  from  such  a 
general  account  of  his  ministry  to  the  description 
of  his  dealings  with  individuals.  This  was  doubt- 
less not  the  first  nor  the  last  time  that  the  Master 
stood  by  the  porch  of  Bethesda.  This  event  has 
significance  because  it  shows  Jesus  face  to  face 
with  one  broken  life.  It  is  utterly  useless  to 
speculate  about  the  nature  of  the  man's  infirmity. 
It  was  humanly  hopeless,  and  it  rendered  him 
physically  helpless.  His  friends  had  long  ago 
given  him  up.  He  alone  held  tenaciously  to  a 
slender  thread  of  hope,  that  of  desperation. 

-^^ 
I,  too,  have  seen  men  lying  helpless  and  hopeless 
in  their  sins  with  the  paralysis  of  their  wasted 
life  tying  them  to  beds  of  bondage.  Praise  God, 
I  have  also  seen  Jesus  with  "his  seamless  dress" 
singling  out  an  Augustine  or  a  Bunyan,  a  Jerry 
McAuley  or  a  Frank  Carr,  and  singhng  out  even 
me  in  my  infirmity  and  my  sin. 

0  tfjou  tofjo  bost  single  men  out  of  tfjc  mul- 
titubc  in  orbcr  tbat  tjjou  mapcgt  fjabc  tropfjicsi 
of  relJccnnng  grace!  jUlap  no  case  totjetljer  mp 
oton  or  another's  be  so  bcsperate  tljat  21  toill  fail 
to  trust  ttjine  almigijtp  poUicrt 


MARCH    TWENTY-THREE 

3Fof)n  5:  6.  Mijen  3fc6us;  siato  fjim  Iptng. 
anb  bnebo  ttat  Jje  Ijaii  been  note  a  long  time  in 
tl)at  case,  i)e  gaiti)  unto  i)im,  iMoulbcst  ttjou  be 
mabe  totole? 

ESUS  did  not  begin  by  belittling  the  man's 
trouble.  He  did  not  say,  like  many  a  modern 
oracle,  "My  man,  there  is  nothing  whatever 
JJ  the  matter  with  you."  The  Master  saw  him 
in  his  infirmity  and  knew  the  reality  of  its  lifelong 
grasp  upon  him.  Did  the  man  want  to  be  made 
whole?  Was  he  spending  a  little  leisure  time  at 
the  pool,  twisting  his  thumbs  and  looking  wise? 
Of  course  he  wanted  to  be  made  whole!  The 
Master  was  only  revealing  how  much  the  man 
wanted  it.  The  habit  of  infirmity  had  all  but 
blotted  out  the  experience  of  real  health.  Was 
there  even  a  spark  of  real  longing  for  life  which 
Jesus  could  not  kindle  into  a  resistless  flame? 

I  know  too  well  that  even  the  desperation  of 
long-lasting  infirmity  does  not  of  itself  beget  hope 
and  desire  for  the  life  that  is  life  indeed.  Would 
that  I  might  hear  again,  and  that  every  stricken 
soul  might  hear,  the  pleading  entreaty  of  Jesus, 
"  Wouldest  thou  be  made  whole?" 

Hotb  STegUEf,  3J  long  to  be  perfcctip  toftole! 
J^eal  mp  toounbeb  faroUcn  spirit,  for  tl)p  namc'sf 
siake. 


MARCH    TWENTY-FOUR 

SToljn  5:  7.  ^Jje  «ufe  man  amstucr cb  tint, 
B>ix,  31  babe  no  man,  tofjen  tfje  toater  ii 
tcoufaleti,  to  put  me  into  ttc  pool:  but  bai)ile  3 
am  coming,  another  sfteppett)  tioton  before  me. 

A  DAMASCUS  blade  was  piercing  the  sick 
man's  soul,  and  making  acute  his  chronic 
infirmity.  On  the  one  hand  he  had  no 
man  to  help  him  into  the  pool;  on  the 
other  hand  there  were  those  who  crowded  him  out, 
every  time  he  tried  to  enter.  He  may  have  been 
largely  to  blame:  his  nature  may  have  become  so 
embittered,  his  temper  so  ungovernable,  his  moods 
so  capricious,  that  friendly  help  was  all  but  im- 
possible. This  did  not  reheve  his  condition, 
however,  and  it  did  not  enter  into  Jesus'  deahngs 
with  him. 

"SIS' 

I  would  not  forget  that  the  spirit  of  friendly 
help  and  cheer  in  mitigating  the  lot  of  the  sufferer, 
which  prevails  to-day,  is  in  itself  an  echo  of  the 
spirit  of  the  Master.  Nor  would  I  forget  that 
there  are  still  those  who,  like  the  infirm  man  of 
old,  have  no  one  to  help  and  everyone  to  hinder. 
May  God  make  me  a  gracious  helper,  not  a  selfish 
hinderer,  of  those  who  cannot  help  themselves. 

0  ^ots.  toJjen  tberc  teas;  no  tvt  to  pitp  nor 
anp  arm  to  siatie,  tt)ou  bibsft  loofa  upon  me  tottl) 
tompasston  anb  tljou  fjast  mabe  bare  t\)v  migfjtp 
arm  to  fiabe  me.  <&ibe  me  tlje  jspirit  of  com- 
passion  tljat  toas  incarnate  in  tf)P  ^on,  mp 
^abiour,  anb  make  me  a  i)clpcr  of  tte  i)clplc£i£'! 


MARCH    TWENTY-FIVE 


ETofjnS:  8,9.  JcgujS  saitfj  unto  fjim,  Slttgc, 
tafee  up  ti)j»  bcti,  anii  toalfe.  Slnb  straigfjttoap 
tije  man  tnasf  malie  tntjole,  anb  took  up  i^ia  beti 
anb  toalket). 

y7       T7E  could  not  leave  his  bed,  much  less  lift 
L___J     it.     Jesus  wasted  no  words  and  gave  no 
[       1     alternatives.     It    was  that    or  nothing; 
then  or  never.     He  might  have  offered 
the  man  a  nerve  tonic  to  take  care  of  the  reaction. 
He  might  at  least  have  healed  him  gradually,  a 
hand  or  a  foot  at  a  time.     How  utterly  unhke  this 
was  the  Master's  method!     His  way  was  to  com- 
mand with  power.     He  wanted  the  man  to  carry 
away  captive  his  bed  which  was  the  badge  of  his 
captivity.     He  purposed  that  there  should  be  no 
intervening  word  or  work  of  human  wisdom  or 
power  to  impede  the  progress  of  his  own  life- 
giving  energy. 

•«^ 
Alas!  I  have  often  said,  "I  cannot,"  to  the 
Lord  when  he  has  bidden  me,  "Take  up  thy  bed, 
and  walk."  My  faint  faith  has  replied:  "Lord, 
I  am  weak  and  helpless  and  defiled.  How  can  I 
ever  stand  upon  my  feet,  let  alone  walk  or  carry 
my  bed?"  May  I  learn  to-day  that  the  key  to 
the  Saviour's  power  is  instant  obedience  to  his 
divine  word.  At  thy  word,  O  Christ,  I  will  give  up 
—  take  up  —  what  and  where  thou  dost  command! 

^^ 

0  tt)ou  fat)i)o  tanet  mafec  broken  \i\iti  faotjole 
again!  21  tooulb  let  tfjee  Ijabe  tfjp  tuap  toitfj  mc 
to=bap.  3{  it  be  a  facb  of  pain  or  a  crogs  of 
Srtef,  3  tuill  take  it  up  to°ba{)  anb  bialk! 


MARCH    TWENTY-SIX 


STofjn  5:  10.  ^o  tt)t  STetosf  sfailr  unto  Ijim 
ttjat  h)a£(  cuceb,  2)t  in  tt)e  sabbati),  anb  it  is  not 
latoful  for  ttjee  to  take  up  ttp  beli. 

N  the  beginning  God  set  heavenly  Sabbath 
bells  ringing,  telling  their  sweet  story  of 
rest  and  peace,  calling  men  from  the  toiling 
bondage  of  lower  levels  into  the  freedom  of 
the  mountain  heights.  Then  self-righteous  men 
set  up  bells  of  their  own  casting,  harsh,  discordant 
and  grating  upon  the  soul.  They  called  men  from 
the  burden  of  the  flesh  to  a  bondage  more  bitter. 
They  offered  pretended  relief  to  the  toil-worn 
body  by  putting  the  soul  in  a  strait-jacket. 

Their  day  is  largely  past  and  men  have  gone 
to  other  extremes.  Let  me  fmd  help  in  the  truth 
which  the  Pharisees  of  old  distorted  to  their  own 
condemnation.  "It  is  the  sabbath."  I  would 
thank  God  for  it!  I  would  be  truly  glad  because 
he  has  provided  a  day  of  spiritual  rest  and  refresh- 
ment. "It  is  lawful  to  do  good  on  the  sabbath 
day";  to  minister  to  the  needy  and  distressed;  to 
visit  the  sick  and  sorrowing;  to  feed  the  hungry 
souls  of  men. 

0  ti)ou  tt)i)o  art  ILorti  of  tfje  ^afabatf)  anb 
ILorb  of  mp  life!  Jfreclp  21  fjabe  reccibcJj  tf)p 
gift  bap  of  rest;  frcelp  3  tuoulb  gibe  to  ttjec 
mp  bap  of  gerUitc,  in  toljatcbtr  place  anb  unto 
biijomdoeber  ttjou  bosit  appoint! 


lUI 


MARCH    TWENTY-SEVEN 


SToftn  5:  U.  JSut  J)c  angtocreb  tfjem,  ^t 
tftat  mabc  me  tutole,  ttc  game  fialti  unto  me, 
^a&e  up  tt)P  bet),  anb  loalk! 

E   was   putting   the   blame   upon   Jesus. 

How  far  the  man  was  influenced  by 
[       J     cowardly  fear;  to  what  extent  his  bodily 

infirmity  had  been  healed  without  a 
corresponding  enlargement  of  his  cramped  mental 
and  spiritual  outlook,  we  do  not  know.  It  was 
natural  enough  that  he  should  fall  back  upon  him 
who  had  healed  his  broken  body,  for  relief  from 
the  taunting  goads  of  the  Pharisees.  Who  better 
than  the  One  who  had  released  him  from  nearly 
forty  years  of  slavery  had  a  right  to  command 
him  to  take  up  his  bed,  and  walk?  Further, 
he  doubtless  saw  that  taking  up  his  bed  was  a 
part  of  his  cure,  and  not  apart  from  it. 


My  spirit,  too,  has  been  made  whole  by  the 
great  Physician.  Who,  rather  than  he,  can 
rightfully  command  "my  life,  my  soul,  my  all"? 
My  marching  orders  are  from  the  Captain  of  my 
salvation.  To  obey  him  is  life;  to  hesitate  or 
to  refuse  is  an  ingrate's  treason.  Help  me  to  be 
true,  my  Saviour  and  my  King! 

0  Cfjtisft!  3  tooulb  lav  tfjc  faurbcn  of  mp 
obcbience  upon  t^tt,  not  to  blame  tfjee  ttjat  mp 
goul  map  escape  tfje  contrabiction  of  sinners, 
but  to  praise  tijee,  because  tljou  tjast  mabe  me 
tubole! 


MARCH    TWENTY-EIGHT 


SFobn  5:  12.  tlTljep  asbeb  Ijim,  Mljo  is;  tfte 
man  ttjat  Kaiti  unto  ti)ee,  ^abe  up  ti)p  beti,  anti 
toalb? 


7HEY  were  giving  him  the  "third  degree." 
They  knew  perfectly  well  who  it  was; 
but  they  wanted  to  ensnare  the  man  and 
to  entrap  Jesus.  The  merciless  inge- 
nuity and  persistency  of  those  who  were  seeking  to 
convict  Christ,  is  often  in  evidence  in  the  Scripture 
record  and  is  nowhere  more  clear  than  here. 

There  is  a  modern  counterpart.  The  power 
of  Christ  in  a  human  hfe,  it  may  be  my  own, 
produces  startling  changes.  The  cynical  world 
gets  in  its  thrust.  "Who  did  it?  Who  changed 
your  disposition?  Who  broke  the  fetters  of  your 
evil  habit?"  What  a  craven  one  is  to  deny  the 
power  and  person  of  Jesus!  How  contemptible 
to  take  the  credit  to  oneself  and  to  say,  "Oh,  I 
just  braced  up,"  or  to  give  the  glory  to  another 
and  to  say,  "I  have  taken  the  XYZ  cure  and  I^m 
all  right  now!"  There  is  no  cure  for  inbred  sin 
but  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  Shall  I  be  a  thankless 
child  and  revel  to-day  in  his  forgiving  bounty, 
and  when  the  world  says,  "Who  made  thee 
whole?"  forget  the  name  of  Jesus? 

<@^  Horb,  tijou  i)as;t  mabe  me  tDljoIe,  anb  tijou 
alone.  Jforbib  tl)at  21  gijoulb  eber  be  asfijameb 
of  tljeel 

"  3iti\xi,  tJ)|»  Jfiame  3  lobe, 
911  otjjer  namc£(  abobc, 
3ti\\i,  mp  ILorb! " 


MARCH    TWENTY-NINE 

STotn  5:  13.  iZlut  Ije  ttjat  inai  ^ealeti  bnetn 
not  tt)t)o  it  toag. 

-^' 

7HERE  is  an  apparent  contradiction  here. 
He  knew  that  one  had  healed  him,  but 
he  did  not  know  who  he  was.  There  is 
no  real  difficulty.  Christ  often  worked 
that  way,  and  still  does.  He  healed  the  man; 
that  was  first.  Faith  always  precedes  philoso- 
phizing. It  was  after  the  man  had  been  healed 
and  after  Jesus  had  gone,  that  he  began  to  wonder 
who  he  was.  A  man  out  of  the  multitude  had 
singled  him  out,  asked  him  a  question,  uttered 
a  command  and  then  had  disappeared.  It  was 
no  apparition  because  the  cure  was  real.  Who 
was  the  man? 

It  is  often  so  when  Jesus  draws  near.  He  brings 
his  blessings  of  pardon  and  peace  and  strength  and 
joy.  These  he  gives  to  those  who  trust  him  enough 
to  receive  them.  He  does  not  require  an  intel- 
lectual scheme  with  all  the  shades  of  variation  in 
which  the  concept  of  his  person  is  held,  before  he 
will  heal  the  hurt  of  the  human  heart.  I  may  not 
know  at  once  in  all  its  fullness,  but  I  will  eventually 
know,  that  he  is  none  other  than  Jesus  the  Christ, 
th€  Son  of  Man  and  the  Son  of  God. 

0  Cfjrigt!  3Cf)ou  bibst  brato  near  anb  bltii 
me.  tuijen  in  tt)c  bimneg£(  of  mp  goul  It  coulb 
not  gee  ttjee  fate  to  face.  M  orotog  ligl)tec 
ebcrp  fjour,  anb  31  see  tfjee  in  tfjp  glotp,  tfjou 
ble£t£teb  ^on  of  <@ob! 


MARCH    THIRTY 


u 


3Foi)n  5:   13.     jFot  5esiug  fjai"  «nbcpei>  tjim- 
sielf  atoap,  a  muUttul>e  betns  in  tije  place. 

ERE  is  a  true  test  both  of  the  fanatic  and 
the  impostor:  they  usually  Uke  to  be 
r  J  seen  of  men.  Jesus  was  neither  a  fa- 
natic nor  an  impostor.  He  had  no  morbid 
fear  of  men  that  bade  him  hide  from  the  multitude, 
yet  his  soul  was  so  singular  in  its  view  of  life  that 
he  often  passed  the  many  by.  He  went  apart 
from  men  both  for  their  sake  and  his.  For  their 
sake  he  did  it,  that  they  might  not  in  a  moment 
of  enthusiasm,  by  some  overt  act,  make  a  later 
and  more  perfect  recognition  of  his  glory  impos- 
sible. For  his  own  sake,  also,  he  went  apart  from 
men  that  he  might  be  with  his  own  soul  and  with 
God.  When  the  multitude  would  crown  him  king, 
he  went  into  the  mountains  to  pray  for  grace  to 
bear  the  cross. 

-^■ 

Herbert  Spencer  reminds  us  that  all  motion 
is  rhythmic,  demanding  intermittent  action  and 
rest.  Jesus  submitted  himself  to  this  law.  Do  I 
need  my  going  apart  with  God  less  than  did  my 
Lord?  For  my  soul's  sake  and  for  the  blessing 
of  those  to  whom  I  may  minister  in  whatever 
sphere,  I  would  often  go  apart  from  men  and  be 
with  God. 


0  tljou  tofto  bibgt  gecb  tfjp  jfatfjcr'K  tuill 
tofjcn  men  gougljl  tfjcc!  Jforbiti  tijat  3  sljoulti 
Kufafititutc  tfjc  "magg^mceting"  for  t\)t  "  tniiint- 
mceting."  i&rant  me  tfjc  grate  to  go  apart 
from  men  anti  to  come  apart  tuiti)  tijee  I 


MARCH    THIRTY-ONE 


JA 


3loi)n  5:  14.  aftertuatb  "Stins  finbctfj  tint 
in  tll)c  temple,  anb  aaib  unto  fjim,  ?Scf)olb,  tljou 
art  mabe  toftole:  sin  no  more,  lest  a  toorsie 
tt)ing  befall  tijee. 

-$!&■ 

T  was  a  good  place  in  which  to  be  found.  The 
goodness,  however,  did  not  inhere  in  the  place, 
but  in  the  motive  of  the  heart  which  prompted 
him  to  go  there.  He  might  have  gone  back 
to  the  pool  of  Bethesda,  seeking  to  tell  others  of 
his  wonderful  cure.  It  was  good  for  him  to  be  in 
the  temple,  for  suddenly  Jesus  drew  near,  whis- 
pered to  him  and  passed  by,  and  another  chapter 
was  added  to  his  life  and  to  the  gospel  story. 

"Sin  no  more,"  echoed  the  voice  that  had  bidden 
him  "Arise,  .  .  .  and  walk."  There  was  no  escaping 
the  thrust  of  such  a  mighty  One.  All  the  secret, 
troubled  springs  of  his  infirmity  were  brought  to 
the  hght  of  day.  He  looked  upon  them  no  longer 
with  the  hopeless  despair  which  distorted  his  view 
of  his  own  sins  and  perhaps  made  him  pity  himself 
instead  of  hate  his  sins;  he  saw  himself  as  Jesus 
saw  him. 

It  is  not  enough  that  I  should  find  in  Christ 
the  physician  for  my  sin-sick  soul.  I  must  daily 
live  in  submission  to  his  holy  will,  taking  him 
as^my  Teacher  and  my  Guide.  He  must  not 
remove  the  guilt  of  sin  alone,  but  its  power. 

-^ 
<!^  ttou  tx)l)o  forgibest  Sin!  3t  ig  tfjp  bibinc 
rigljt  to  commanb  tlje  sfinner.  jfreelp  tfjou  iiaat 
parboneb  me.  iillap  3  as  jopouelp  put  asibc 
ti)c  sin  tofjicf)  makes  tljee  mourn  anb  tnalb 
toitJ)  tljec  in  tijc  netoness  of  life! 


APRIL    ONE 


SFobn  5:  15.  ®t)e  man  tocnt  atoap,  anb  tolb 
ti)t  STetoJS  tjjat  it  tuas  Jcjsus  bato  ftab  mabc  f)int 
to|)ole. 

'HY  did  he  tell  the  Jews?  If  it  was 
because  he  was  willing  to  defy  them 
it  was  well.  If  the  words  had  been 
wrung  from  him  in  the  heat  of  another 
ordeal  at  their  hands,  we  might  justify  him.  If, 
however,  he  told  them  in  order  to  curry  favor 
with  them  and  to  bring  blame  upon  Jesus,  because 
he  resented  the  Lord's  last  word  to  him,  there  is 
only  one  verdict  to  be  brought  in,  and  the  "worse 
thing"  —  the  furnace  of  remorse  heated  seven 
times  hotter  than  any  hell  of  bondage  in  which  he 
had  lived  for  forty  years  —  yawned  before  him. 

'^■ 
What  is  the  secret  of  my  witness  for  Jesus? 
Do  I  tell  others  of  the  wondrous  things  that  he 
has  done  for  me  because  I  would  "that  my  Saviour 
were  [their]  Saviour,  too?"  Am  I  moved  by 
motives  that  are  less  worthy,  as  I  speak  conde- 
scendingly of  the  "old-fashioned  gospel"?  Do 
I  patronize  the  Son  of  God  and  declare  that,  on 
the  whole,  his  gospel  is  good  enough  for  me? 
Would  that  my  witness  were  constant  and  con- 
vincing, born  of  love  and  nourished  of  prayer,  and 
daily  quickened  by  his  Holy  Spirit  and  his  word! 

0  ILorb,  mp  ^abiour,  forgibe  me  if,  in 
anp  toap,  mp  ttatimonp  fjas  not  been  clear  anb 
true!  jHap  3  tabc  tl)e  fitanb  for  tt)ee,  ti)p  faitfj- 
ful  toitncgjf,  anptoljere  anb  eberptoljerc,  tfjat 
men  are  asking.  Mtjat,  tiien  sijall  3  bo  unto 
3Fe£(U£(? 


APRIL    TWO 


3fo{)n  5:  17.  JSut  HTeKuiS  anfituercb  tfjcm, 
jHp  jFatljer  tootketf)  cben  until  noto,  anb  3 
biotfa. 

4^ 


o 


ERFECT  partnership!  The  Father  work- 
ing until  that  very  hour,  and  the  Son  also 
working!  "Wist  ye  not  that  I  must  be 
about  my  Father's  business?"  (a. v.)  The 
Father  working  in  his  great  workshop,  the  uni- 
verse; the  Son,  being  of  age,  entering  into  the 
active  concern  of  the  Father's  business  on  earth. 
The  personal  pronoun  is  significant.  "The" 
Father,  of  whom  he  afterwards  spoke,  Jesus  first 
calls  "my"  Father. 

Jesus  could  not  communicate  all  of  the  con- 
sciousness of  his  partnership  with  God.  He  did, 
however,  and  he  does,  reveal  his  harmony  with  the 
Father  as  a  warrant  for  our  working  with  him  as 
he  worked  with  God. 

What  inexpressible  security  is  mine  when  I 
know  that  the  Father  is  the  silent  partner  in  every 
enterprise  in  which  I  am  engaged  in  his  name! 
Need  I  fear  reversal,  bankruptcy  or  disaster, 
with  all  the  resources  of  the  heavenly  Father 
mine  through  Christ?  What  a  stimulus  to  patient 
persevering  toil  to  know  that  I  am  laboring  both 
for  and  with  God!  Almighty  as  he  is,  he  works  in 
me  and  I  work  with  him. 

0  tfjou  boljosic  lieltQf)t  toas  to  Iro  tfjp  jFatijcr'S 
taill!  jl^cbeal  to  mc  tf)C  jop  of  tftat  perfect 
pattnetsii)tp  taiti)  (@ob  into  tuttci)  ti)ou  tiosft  call 
all  tt)0£ie  b)i)o  toill  folloUi  tijeel 


APRIL     THREE 


JJ 


3fof)n  5:  19.  3JegU£!  therefore  anfitncreb 
anb  gaib  unto  tt)em,  ^crilp,  bcrilp,  3  fiap  unto 
pou,  QCf)e  ^oiT  can  bo  notljing  ot  ^imitXi,  but 
tofjat  fjc  BiEctlj  t|)e  Jfatfjcr  boing:  for  toijat  things 
goebet  i)c  boett),  tbese  tl)e  ^on  also  boetij  in 
It&e  manner. 

^^ 

ESUS  met  their  charge  of  blasphemy  by 
reveaUng  his  fihal  relation  to  the  Father. 
In  order  that  men  might  know  in  what 
that  relation  consisted,  he  outlined  in  suc- 
cession, in  the  following  verses,  five  links  in  the 
chain  which  bound  him  to  the  Father.  First,  the 
things  the  Father  doeth,  "the  Son  also  doeth  in 
like  manner."  Here  is  absolute  dependence  of 
the  Son  upon  the  Father  both  as  to  the  matter 
and  the  manner  of  his  works. 

Can  it  be  that  there  is  truth  designed  for  me 
in  the  perfect  sonship  of  Jesus?  Unless  the  Scrip- 
tures lie,  he  is  to  be  "the  firstborn  among  many 
brethren."  It  is  mine  to  aspire  to  be  like  him  in 
all  the  days  of  my  flesh,  that  in  the  last  day'  I 
may  come  into  his  Father's  presence  with  exceed- 
ing joy. 

0  tf)OU  onlp  begotten  ^on  of  #ob,  mp  brother 
anb  mp  fricnb!  9^ebeal  unto  me  aneto  tlje 
meaning  of  fatfjerboob  anb  fionstjip,  in  otber 
ti)at,  in  ti)p  J^me,  1&  map  be  calleb  a  ci)ilb  of 
(@obI 


APRIL    FOUR 


STobn  5:    20.     Jfor   tfte   Jfattcr  lobctJj  tljc 
^on,  anb  gfjobaetf)  tim  all  tfjings  tJjat  fjimsclf 
boctb:   anb  greater  toorbs  tljan  tfjcsc  toiU  fje 
fitotD  {)im,  tfjat  pc  map  marbel. 
-^ 
OVE  lavishes  itself.     While  it  is  in  one  re- 
spect a  centripetal   force,  gathering  to  it- 
self,  it  is  equally  a  centrifugal  force,  giving 
-^=^  of  itself.     In  one  case  it  is  impressive,  in 


the  other  it  is  expressive.  The  Father  held  to 
his  eternal  heart  the  only  begotten  Son.  Out  of 
that  heart  of  love  he  poured  all  the  treasures 
of  wisdom  and  power  upon  his  "beloved  Son" 
in  whom  he  was  well  pleased.  What  could  the 
Father  do  without  the  Son?  What  acts  or  attri- 
butes of  his  could  the  Father  withhold  from 
the  Son?  All  that  the  Father  was,  he  was. 
All  that  the  Father  did,  he  did. 

This  day  is  the  day  of  his  "greater  works." 
Calvary  has  hfted  its  sacrificial  head  "o'er  the 
wrecks  of  time."  The  open  tomb  has  flooded 
a  dying  world  with  the  glory  of  immortality. 
The  Father  still  loves  the  Son  and  works  in  him 
the  greater  works;  the  healing  of  sin-sick  souls; 
the  raising  of  the  souls  dead  in  trespasses  and 
sins;  the  opening  of  the  kingdom  of  heaven  to 
all -- believers.  Shall  I  not  exult  to-day  in  the 
Father's  love  for  the  Son,  a  love  which  reaches 
even  me,  for  his  Son's  sake? 

<B  tftou  tuljom  tfjc  jFatfjer  lobcb  tm'tfj  a  lobe 
tbat  cannot  be  nameb  fat'  mortal  man!  IKIjou 
ftast  rebcaleb  tf)c  lobe  of  (Sob  for  me.  ^?elp 
me  to  lobe  ti)ee  as  3  oust)t  to  lobe! 


APRIL    FIVE 


Sfoljn  5:  21.  Jfor  ag  tbe  Jfatbcc  raigetfj 
tfjc  beab  anil  gibctf)  ttcm  life,  eben  fio  tte  ^on 
aliSo  gtbett)  life  to  t:Df)om  te  b)iU. 

OVE  begets.     Love  is  the   Father  of   life. 

"The  Father  raiseth  the  dead  and  giveth 

.         them  Hfe."     Even  so  the  Son  is  a  life-giv- 

■^=^  ing  Son.     This  is  the  first  miracle  and  the 


last.  A  living  God  must  be  a  life-giving  God.  If 
the  Son  could  do  everything  else  —  reveal,  in- 
struct, control,  subdue,  —  and  yet  could  not  give 
life,  then  his  Sonship  is  not  final  or  perfect. 

I  can  put  him  to  the  test  to-day.  He  may  be 
the  Chiefest  among  the  sons  of  men,  and  still  fail 
me.  Do  I  feel  in  my  inmost  heart  the  throbbing 
of  the  life  of  God,  the  life  that  rises  above  the 
passions  and  the  processes  of  the  flesh  and  that 
reaches  out  beyond  space  and  time?  It  may  be 
so,  according  to  his  promise!  It  must  be  so  if 
I  would  live  with  God!  It  is  so  by  his  grace,  and 
ever  will  be  so.  . '  . 

0  ^on  of  (gob,  begotten  of  eternal  lobe! 
t!Df)ou  gibesft  life  unto  b)f)omsoeber  tbou  biillegt! 
l&n  ttp  lobe  foe  me  map  3  finb  life,  nobi  anb 
ebet! 


APRIL    SIX 


SToljn  5:  22.  23.  Jfoc  neitljcr  botf)  tfjc 
jFatbcr  jubse  anp  man,  but  t)c  fjatf)  giben  all 
I'uligmcnt  unto  t|)c  ^on;  tijat  all  map  fjonor  ttc 
^on,  cben  as  tijcp  i^onot  tfje  jFatfjcr.  J^e  tljat 
fjonoretf)  not  tljc  ^on  f)onor£tl)  not  tfje  jFat^et 
tljat  sent  Ijim. 


^^HE  Father  has  not  abdicated  his  throne. 
He  has  only  committed  judgment  to 
his  Son.  He  has  commissioned  as  chief 
justice  of  heaven's  high  court  of  appeals 
him  "whom  he  appointed  heir  of  all  things." 
His  decree  is  final.  Men  may  rob  the  Son  of 
his  equality  with  the  Father  until  they  behold 
him  on  the  judgment  throne;  then  they  will 
stand  speechless  in  his  presence.  No  created 
being  would  ever  dare  to  judge  a  created  race. 
Men  may  be  heedless  of  his  teachings  and  his 
example,  his  mighty  works  of  love  and  mercy. 
They  may  ever  steel  their  hearts  against  the  love 
that  flowed  from  Calvary.  When  the  hour  of  judg- 
ment draws  nigh  "every  eye  shall  see  him"  and 
every  ear  shall  hear  him.  Well  may  the  psalmist 
cry,  "Kiss  the  son,  lest  he  be  angry,  and  ye  perish 
in  the  way,  for  his  wrath  will  soon  be  kindled. 
Blessed  are  all  they  that  take  refuge  in  him." 

4^ 
How  wonderful  it  will  be  to  find  my  Advocate 
and  my   Redeemer  upon  the  judgment   throne. 

-^ 
21  belicbe  tfjat  tl)ou  s;f)alt  tome  to  be  mp  STubgc, 
©  Cbrigt.     3  commit  mp  case  to  tfjee.     ^t  tfjou 
mp  gibbocate  anb  Jfrienb!   ^abc  me  in  tljc 
STubgmcnt  jQap! 


APRIL    SEVEN 


Slofjn  5:  24.  "^cdlp,  bcrilp,  3i  gap  unto 
pou,  |f?c  tbat  ijearcUj  mp  hjorb,  anb  faelicbetf) 
f)im  tt)at  gent  mc,  fjatfj  eternal  life,  anb  cometf) 
not  into  jubgment,  but  tati)  paggeb  out  of  beatb 
into  life. 

ASSED  out  of  death!"  How  full  of 
grace  is  this  figure  of  speech!  Not  to 
be  snatched  from  death  as  one  violently 
delivered   from   peril,  but   simply  to  leave 


D 


it  behind:  to  retire  from  its  domain,  to  emerge 
from  its  darkness  as  the  morning  sun  emerges 
above  the  horizon!  It  is  not  only  "passed  out 
of  death,"  but  "into  life."  Why  should  I  pass 
out  of  death,  unless  there  is  life  beyond?  The 
crossing  of  the  border  line  between  death  and  life 
is  not  in  the  future  tense  but  in  the  perfect  — 
"hath  passed."  I  am  even  now  in  the  King's 
country. 

What  assurance  for  a  troubled  soul,,  who  fears 
the  "article  of  death"  and  who  loves  life,  'to 
know  that  faith  in  the  only  begotten  Son  is  a 
passport  into  that  country  of  the  blessed  where 
there  is  no  more  death!  If  I  have  crossed  the 
threshold  of  everlasting  life,  are  there  those  still 
lingering  behind  whom  I  ought  to  lead  into  the 
light? 

0  tf)ou  tofjo  turncst  tfjc  sfjabotu  of  bcatl)  into 
tfje  morning !  iHap  3  bring  tl)e  meesage  of 
eternal  life  to=bap  to  some  totjo  Ijabc  not  pet 
pagsieb  out  of  beatlb! 


APRIL    EIGHT 


SToljn  5:  25.  ^etilp,  bcrilp,  3  gap  unto 
fou,  tCbe  tour  tomctlj,  anb  notn  is,  toften  tfte 
iBeab  stall  tear  ttc  boicc  of  Uje  ^on  of  (got); 
anb  ttcj»  ttat  t^ar  stall  Ubc." 

'^O  other  voice  would  do!  The  voice  of 
worldly  wisdom  would  make  as  much 
impression  upon  the  dead  as  a  passing 
breeze  upon  the  granite  mountain. 
The  voice  of  sorrow  comes  back  upon  itself,  a 
grim  echo  from  the  unseen  bourne.  Wise  men 
and  fools  have  called  to  their  heedless  dead  and 
have  at  length  fallen  into  the  kindred  dust. 
Mothers  have  sobbed  over  the  faces  and  forms  of 
their  first-born,  crying,  "Darling!  Return!"  but 
their  Hfeless  beloved  neither  heard  nor  heeded. 
But,  lo,  the  Son  of  God  cries,  "Come  forth!"  and 
the  dead  hear  his  voice. 

Was  I  less  than  dead  when  he  sought  me  and 
found  me?  Could  I  have  grown  into  the  king- 
dom of  light?  Had  I  the  power  within  my 
lifeless  and  hopeless  soul  to  beget  life  for  myself? 
No  one  but  the  mighty  Christ  could  have  called 
me  so  that  I  could  have  heard.  Thou  didst  call 
me,  O  Lord,  and  I  heard  thy  voice.  I  have  also 
hearkened  unto  thee,  and  I  live  in  thee. 

*^ 
©  migttp  Ctrist,  totos;c  toorb  is  life  from 
ttc  bcab!    3  tabc  tcarb  ttp  boicc  anb  31  libe! 
(grant  mc  marc  anb  more  ttc  life  ttat  is  life 
inbeeb. 


APRIL    NINE 


3fof)n  5:  26.  jfor  as  tfjc  jFatfjcr  fjatf)  life 
in  })imsclf,  eben  go  gabe  fje  to  tJjc  ^on  also  to 
fjabc  life  in  ijimgclt. 

"^T  is  not  life  but  "life  in  himself"  that  sepa- 
rates the  Creator  from  the  creature.  The 
latter  has  life,  communicated  from  parent  to 
offspring.  The  tiniest  cell  lives  for  a  hand- 
breadth  of  time  and  then  decays  because  it  has 
no  hfe  in  itself  but  only  life  in  its  environment. 
The  Creator  has  life  in  himself.  He  alone  of  all 
is  self-existent.  So  also  is  the  Son  to  whom  he 
has  given  to  have  life  in  himself.  The  secret  of 
life  is  in  the  keeping  of  the  Son. 

I  know  that  I  cannot  fathom  the  fullness  of 
life.  The  vast  abyss  of  its  unexplored  depths, 
the  sun-crowned  pinnacle  of  its  unsealed  heights, 
are  infmitely  beyond  my  reach  or  grasp.  I  do 
not  know  what  it  means  to  have  life  in  myself, 
for  all  the  life  I  have,  I  have  received.  How 
marvelous  to  know  that  through  Christ  I  may 
have  life  in  myself!  As  he  lives  in  me  and  I  live 
in  him,  his  limitless  life  becomes  my  very  own. 
As  the  Father  gave  him  life  in  himself,  so  he  gives 
his  living,  loving  self  to  me.  In  all  the  interstices 
of  my  inmost  being,  there  is  life,  if  I  live  in  him. 
Within  the  physical  process  of  dissolution  which 
goes  on  day  by  day,  there  is  the  never-ceasing 
power  of  his  endless  life. 

0  tljou  tofjo  art  alibc  for  cbcrmore,  3J  libe, 
pet  not  3,  for  ttou  libest  in  me!  3Ret)cal  tfjp 
life  tbrougf)  me  tfjis  bap! 


APRIL     TEN 


SToftn  5:  27.     ainti  j)c  gatic  fjim  autftoritp  to 
execute  jutgment,  because  fje  is  a  son  of  man. 

TE  is  a  son  of  man."     Is  it  not  strange 

=^^      that    this    assertion    crowns    his    claims 

to  be  the  perfect  Son  of  God?     At  the 

^  chmax  of  his  divine  sonship  is  his 
"authority  to  execute  judgment,  because  he  is  a 
son  of  man."  What  a  perfect  blending  of  human- 
ity and  divinity!  How  gloriously  the  Advocate 
assumes  the  role  of  Judge!  It  could  not  have 
been  written,  "because  he  is  wise  or  great  or 
good,"  or  "because  he  is  an  angel  or  an  archangel," 
but  "because  he  is  a  son  of  man."  He  not  oniy 
knows  the  law,  but  he  knows  those  who  will 
stand  before  his  judgment  seat.  Their  heart- 
aches he  has  felt;  their  burdens  have  bent  his 
back;  their  transgressions  have  put  him  to  grief. 
How  righteous  but  how  terrible  must  be  the 
judgments  of  him  who  knows  man  altogether. 

I  do  not  often  think  of  my  Saviour  as  my 
Judge,  but  such  he  is.  His  thorn-crowned  head, 
his  nail-pierced  hands,  his  riven  side,  these  are 
the  "marks  to  lead  me  to  him,"  who  is  to-day 
my  Advocate,  to-morrow  my  Judge. 

©  tfjou  before  tofjom  all  flcsfj  sfjall  stanb! 
^leab  mp  cause  to=t>ap,  tfjat  in  tlje  last  great 
bap  3f  sfjall  not  fear  t«m  fcofjo  is  to  be  mp  Slubse, 
eben  tijec  mp  ^abiout  anb  mp  Jfcicnbl 


APRIL    ELEVEN 


M 


STotn  5:  28,  29^  jWarbel  not  at  tt^ii:  for 
tlje  ijour  comctf),  in  toljidj  all  tftat  are  in  tfjc 
tombs  fiftall  ftear  ijis  boicc,  anb  sfjall  come 
(ortl);  ttep  tfjat  fjabe  bone  sool>.  unto  tl)c  regur= 
rection  of  life;  anb  tfjep  tfjat  ftabe  bone  cbil, 
unto  t\)t  resurrection  of  jubgrncnt. 

^  /fARVEL  not!"  How  can  I  do  less 
than  marvel?  Is  it  not  altogether 
marvelous?  Yes,  if  my  marveling  is 
the  rejoicing  wonder  and  awe  of  faith! 
No,  if  my  marveling  is  tinged  with  the  mur- 
muring of  doubt  and  unbehef.  Why  should  I 
marvel  at  any  great  and  holy  thing  the  Son  of 
God  declares  or  does?     He  is  able  to  perform. 

-^ 
I  will  marvel  no  more.  May  I  rather  ascertain 
whether  my  standing  in  him  is  secure,  so  that  I 
may  come  forth  into  the  resurrection  of  life.  I 
have  no  righteousness  of  my  own  to  offer,  but  his 
righteousness  is  mine  by  faith.  Since  his  right- 
eousness is  mine,  I  dare  not  longer  do' evil  lest  I 
awaken  only  to  the  resurrection  of  judgment.  It 
behooves  me  to  live  this  day  in  the  light  of  his 
judgment,  thinking  every  thought,  saying  every 
word,  doing  every  deed  as  though,  in  the  twin- 
kling of  an  eye,  I  should  stand  before  the  great 
white  throne. 

0  ti)o\x  tol)o  Ijast  farougijt  ligljt  anb  immor- 
talitp  to  lisbt  tbrougt)  tf)P  sospel!  ifflap  3 
lil)c  tljis  bap  unber  tfjc  poboer  of  tt)p  rcfiurrct- 
tion,  anb  in  tJ)e  ligftt  of  mine ! 


APRIL     TWELVE 


3Jo\)n  5:  30.     3  can  of  tnpscU  bo  notting: 
as  3  \)eax,  3  jubge:  anb  mp  jubginent  is  rigljt- 
eoug;  because  3  seek  not  mine  oton  baill,  but 
tt)e  bitU  of  tint  tijat  sent  me. 
-^ 

DASSIVE  submission  was  not  enough.  The 
Son  sought  the  will  of  the  One  that  sent 

him.     It   is   one   thing  to   cease  resisting; 

and,  worn  out  from  the  sheer  futihty  of 
contending  with  God,  to  come  to  a  submissive 
frame.  It  is  another  thing  to  bend  every  energy 
of  heart  and  mind  to  find  the  will  of  God  and  to 
do  it.  A  slave  might  be  submissive  in  a  passive 
sense.  Only  a  Son  could  sincerely  seek  to  know 
and  do  the  Father's  will.  It  was  this  that  gave 
Jesus  daily  strength. 

What  a  pointed  probe  with  which  to  search  the 
mysteries  of  my  own  inmost  soul!  It  is  not  enough 
that  I  should  let  God  have  his  way  because  he 
will  and  must.  If  I  would  walk  in  Jesus'  foot- 
steps I  must  be  eager  to  enter  into  his  perfect 
plan:  to  seek  his  will,  in  every  act  and  in  every 
hour;  to  make  his  will  my  purpose.  God  keep 
me  ever  in  that  blessed  way. 

-^ 

^   "Our  wills  are  ours,  we  know  not  how  — 
Our  wills  are  ours  to  make  them  thine." 

0  ti)ou  b)})o  btbsit  learn  ofaebtence  an  a  ^on, 
teacf)  me  tf)p  toill,  anb  gibe  me  bailp  grace 
to  bo  it,  for  tfjp  name's  sabel 


APRIL     THIRTEEN 


3Jof)n  5:  34.  ?But  tlje  toitncfig  fcaljitf)  3 
reteibc  is  not  from  man:  fjotobeit  3  fiap  tijcste 
tftings,  ttjat  pc  map  be  fiabeti. 


V7 


'ESUS  was  witnessing  for  us.  Others  bore 
witness  to  him.  The  witness  of  John,  an 
earthly  witness,  was  true.  The  witness  of 
JJ  the  Father  as  to  who  he  was,  whence  and 
why  he  came,  was  the  truth  itself.  All  the  rays 
of  truth  which  centered  themselves  upon  him, 
he  focused  upon  his  disciples  that  they  might 
be   saved. 

If  he  had  stifled  in  his  own  heart,  without 
uttering  it  to  others,  the  consciousness  of  his 
divine  sonship,  he  would  not  only  have  dishonored 
God  but  he  would  have  defrauded  men.  If  he 
knew  himself  to  be  the  Son  of  God,  to  work  God's 
works  and  greater  works,  to  have  life  in  himself, 
to  execute  judgment  and  to  raise  the  dead,  he 
could  not  conceal  it.  The  morning  mists  that 
hide  the  sun  hang  heavy  upon  the  earth  and  not 
upon  the  face  of  the  sun.  So  the  Son  of  God 
bears  unbroken  witness  to  God's  love  and  power, 
that  we,  his  earthly  children,  may  be  saved. 
No  earth-born  cloud  can  e'er  arise,  to  hide  me 
from  my  Saviour's  eyes.  May  no  doubt  or  sin 
of  mine  hide  his  face  from  me. 

0  €»oti,  tDfjo  toast  manifested  tn  tfje  flesij! 
®tou  fjast  jspofecn  tlje  toorb  tijat  3  migfjt  be 
sabeti!  Jllap  3  not  fail  bp  doubting  ttje  toitness 
of  tijine  unbroken  toorb! 


APRIL    FOURTEEN 


3rof)n  5:  35.  J^t  tuas  tfjc  lamp  tbat  faurnetf) 
anb  sbincttj;  anb  pc  toere  toilling;  to  rejoice  for 
a  reason  in  ftig  ligfjt. 


=^HE  tables  are  turned,  and  Jesus  here  bears 
striking  testimony  to  John.     A  "lamp," 
the  instrument  of  hght,  but  neither  the 
^^  ^       light   nor   the    oil    that   fed    the   flame- 
that    burneth"  — giving    light    by    giving    life' 
pouring  himself  out  in  his  witness;   "and  shineth"' 
—  that  is  the  mission  of  the  hght,   not   to  call 
attention  to  itself  but  to  shine,   to  destroy  the 
darkness  and  to  become  the  nursing  mother  of 
life;   "for  a  season"  —  such  is  the  record  of  every 
earthly  light.     All   of  the  immortals   who   have 
illumined  the  pathway  of  life  for  the  race 
"...  have  had  their  day  and  ceased  to  be. 
They  are  but  broken  lights  of  thee. 
And  thou,  0  Lord,  art  more  than  they." 
«$^ 
It  is  not  mine  to  be  the  light,  but  it  is  mine  to 
give  It.     I  am  not  the  sun  to  illumine  by  auto- 
matic energy.     At  best,  I  am  but  a  candle  or  a 
torch.     Still,  I  may  shine  with  a  heavenly  hght 
If  Jesus  were  on  earth  to-day,  would  he  bear  wit- 
ness   to  my  life,   and   testify,    "He   is   one   who 
burneth  and  shineth  for  a  season"?     Are  there 
those  who  would  be  in  darkness  to-day  if  it  were 
not  for  my  burning  out  for  God? 

<B  tfjou  %igf)t  of  life!  S)o  manp  btocll  in 
barfenegs!  JWap  mp  life  be  a  burning  anb  a 
stmtng  tottnefis  to  tij?  ligljt,  toljiclj  is  the  life 
of  men! 


APRIL    FIFTEEN 


SFotn  5:  37.  9nb  tfje  Jfatftcr  tfjat  gent  me, 
fte  t)atfj  borne  tnitness  of  me.  gc  (jabe  neitfjer 
ijearD  tjis  boice  at  anp  time,  nor  seen  \i\i  form. 

SPEECHLESS,  formless  God!  What 
sort  of  God  would  that  be?  Yet  God  is 
a  Spirit,  and  not  hands  and  feet.  Spi- 
noza's circle  that  could  think  would  not 
have  the  liberty  to  say,  "God  is  a  great  circle," 
but,  "God  is  a  great  thinker."  We  do  and  must 
interpret  God  but  in  terms  of  our  highest  nature. 
Has  he  no  voice,  then?  Ah,  but  he  has!  A  voice 
with  a  myriad  tones.  All  nature  is  harmonic 
with  the  voice  of  God.  His  voice  was  uttered 
once  in  flesh.  He  spoke  unto  the  ends  of  the  ages 
by  the  lips  and  life  of  Jesus,  his  only  begotten 
Son. 

It  is  true  that  I  have  never  heard  the  voice 
nor  seen  the  form  of  God.  I  would  beware  of 
subtle  voices  that  claim  to  be  divine,  and  of 
fantastic  forms  that  profess  to  embody  God's 
spirit.  Of  this  thing  only  am  I  sure:  I  have  heard 
the  voice  and  have  seen  the  form  of  the  eternal 
God,  for  I  have  seen  Jesus,  in  whom  all  the  Father's 
fullness  dwells. 

<B  tfjou  tofjo  bibst  rcbcal  to  fjuman  cars  anb 
cpes,  tl)P  jFatbcr's  glorp!  ^pcak  to  me  tfjig 
bap  fap  tf)p  l^olp  Spirit,  tofjo  tabes  of  tijine  anb 
£>)ob)£t  it  unto  me  I 


APRIL    SIXTEEN 


JJ 


3Fof)n  5:  30.  gc  scarcl)  tf)c  gtriptureg,  be- 
cause pe  tt)infe  tfjat  in  tfjem  pe  t)abe  eternal  life; 
anb  tljcsc  arc  tfjcp  tofjicf)  bear  toitness  of  me. 

"^ESUS  would  give  the  Devil  his  due.  He 
freely  admitted  that  the  Pharisees,  who 
bitterly  opposed  him,  searched  the  Scriptures. 
It  was  not  their  search  that  he  condemned, 
but  the  fruitlessness  of  it.  They  expected  to 
find  eternal  life  at  the  end  of  their  quest.  The 
Scriptures  which  they  searched  included  only 
the  books  of  the  Old  Testament.  They  were 
neither  the  Gospels  nor  the  Epistles.  Still,  they 
had  Christ  in  them  from  Genesis  to  Malachi. 
When  Jesus  opened  the  Scriptures  he  found  him- 
self in  "Moses  and  the  prophets,"  and  in  all  the 
Scriptures.  They  were  seeking  eternal  hfe,  when, 
lo,  it  appeared  clothed  in  flesh,  and  they  did  not 
know  it.  They  were  like  stupid  folk,  wandering 
in  the  art  museum,  guidebook  in  hand,  passing 
by  the  masterpiece  without  knowing  it. 

There  is  not  a  vagary  on  earth,  a  fanatical 
hodgepodge  of  faith  and  philosophy  that  does 
not  glibly  quote  the  Scriptures.  What  is  the 
lodestone  of  truth?  In  the  midst  of  "creeds  that 
twist  and  wind"  where  is  eternal  life?  It  is  found 
only  in  Christ.  It  is  not  Christ  independent  of  the 
Book  which  means  the  little  Christ  I  have  created: 
it  is  not  the  Book  before  the  Christ,  which  means 
the  bitter  bondage  of  the  Pharisees.  It  is  the 
Christ  of  the  Book,  revealed  to  me  by  faith. 

•$«► 
©    tftou    libing   Horb!   iHap   tfje   toritten 
toorb  testifp  of  tfjee  to  me  to=baj> ! 


APRIL     SEVEXTEEX 


2Jol)n  5:  40.     Snb  re  toill  not  come  to  me, 
tt)at  pe  map  babe  lift. 

-we 


=/HEY  might  have  come  to  Christ.  So 
might  every  man.  They  did  not  come 
because  they  would  not.  Even  though 
he  had  captured  every  outpost  of  their 
nature,  the  citadel  of  their  rebelhous  will  remained 
unshaken.  Their  blindness  he  pitied  and  could 
have  healed.  Their  weakness  he  endured  with- 
out complaint.  Their  petty  prejudices  and  their 
many  infirmities  he  covered  with  the  mantle  of 
his  di^"ine  compassion.  It  was  the  hardness  of 
their  hearts,  the  perversity  of  their  wills,  that 
baffled  him.  He  could  only  leave  them  to  their 
fate,  which  was  not  less  tragic  because  it  was 
self-inflicted. 

There  are  multitudes  to-day  who  have  drawn 
near  enough  to  Jesus  to  hear  him  speak.  They 
have  even  searched  the  Word  of  God  to  fmd  the 
secret  of  everlasting  life.  Jesus  has  challenged 
their  interest  and  captured  their  imaginations, 
but  he  has  not  won  their  inmost  souls  because 
they  have  made  the  great  refusal.  They  turn 
away  from  him,  ashamed,  burdened,  convicted, 
vet  thev  will  not  come  to  him  that  they  may 
have  hfe.  Forbid,  0  God,  that  I  should  be  of 
such. 

(f>  ?esus.  tt}ou  art  standing  outsibc  tte  fast- 
tloscl)  boorl  Chou  stalt  stanb  no  longer! 
(fnter  tt)e  toitic-flung  portals  of  mr  soul,  3 
faesectt)  ti)ct.  anti  gide  me  life  from  abotoel 


APRIL    EIGHTEEN 


SToftn  5:  41.     3  reccibe  not  glorp  front  men. 

PERILOUS  mountain  peak!  No  one 
without  a  perfect  heart  and  boundless 
courage  could  ever  ascend  to  such  dizzy 
heights.  To  be  willing  and  able  to  rise 
above  the  plaudits  of  men,  to  emerge  from  the 
fickle  chatter  of  tongues  into  the  silences  of  God, 
to  seek  and  to  see  only  the  heavenly  Father's 
approving  smile,  requires  more  than  profession. 
There  are  many  who  climb  upon  the  pedestals  of 
their  own  pride,  and  who  think  that  they  have  at 
last  attained  humility.  They  are  proud  because 
they  are  so  humble.  Let  them  test  themselves 
by  the  judgment  of  Jesus.  Will  they  have  their 
glory  of  men?  It  will  not  do  for  them  to  denounce 
all  others  for  their  unworthiness  and  even  by  mere 
silence  to  imply  their  own  superiority.  Positions 
of  prominence  and  power  are  filled  by  others, 
therefore  we  are  sure  that  they  must  have  sought 
preferment  and  glorv. 

^^ 

In  our  own  case  it  would  have  been  so  different, 
our  spurious  humility  flatters  us  into  believing. 
Jesus'  test  is  for  the  soul  when  it  is  alone  with 
God.  Dare  I  look  up  into  the  heights  of  holiness 
to-day  and  say,  "My  praise  is  from  thee  alone, 
my" Saviour  and  my  God"? 

0  tftou  tDftose  glorp  toas  toitf)  tljc  jFatfjcr  be= 
fore  tt)C  boorliJ  tuasi  JTtou  bibst  not  nccb  or 
seek  ti)t  glorp  of  men!  ^incc  tt)ou  feast  prom= 
iseb  me  tfjp  glorp,  map  3  be  content,  tuljateljcr 
men  map  sap! 


APRIL    NINETEEN 


J) 


3Fol)n  5:  42.    jiut  3  fanoto  pou,  tljat  pe  tabe 
not  ti)e  lobe  of  (§ob  in  pourstelbesf. 

-^' 

ESUS  took  the  real  measure  of  their  souls. 
Their  robes  of  self-righteousness  were  padded 
at   every   point.     The   Master   looked   them 
through  and  through  and  pitilessly  held  up 
to  their  view  the  deformity  of  their  souls. 

Jesus  always  causes  consternation  among  hypo- 
crites. They  do  not  always  show  it,  for  bravado 
and  studied  indifference  are  a  part  of  their  sham- 
ming. They  know  that  Jesus  knows.  This  made 
them  hate  him  in  the  days  of  old.  For  this  men 
still  refuse  the  claims  of  Christ. 

Jesus  must  measure  me  ere  he  passes  me  by. 
Motives  and  ambitions  that  to  mortal  sight  are 
hidden,  are  open  to  him.  If  there  is  unforgiven 
guilt  within  my  heart,  I  cannot  come  forth  scathe- 
less from  his  searching  of  my  soul. 

I  cannot  hope  that  he  will  find  the  perfect  Icvve 
of  God  within  my  heart.  I  dare  but  pray  that 
beneath  the  evil  that  still  abides,  although  un- 
bidden, he  may  find  his  own  true  love,  my  dearest 
treasure,  my  only  hope. 


^  ti)OU  b)t)o  knotuc&t  tutjat  tsi  in  man,  3  bo 
come  unto  tfjee !  jFinb  tuJjat  t|)crc  ig  to  finb  anb 
tutat  tbou  b3ilt!  Mitt)  all  mp  unU)ortijines!£i  J) 
lobe  ti)ee,  mp  ^abiouc  anb  mp  (^ob! 


APRIL     TWENTY 


3}oi)n  6:  2.    !3ni)  a  great  multitude  foUoboeb 
J)im,  because  tfjep  faeljelb  tf)c  signs  tuticfj  ^e 
bib  on  tljent  tfjat  tnere  sick. 
-^• 
""T       T7E  paid  the  price  of  his  greatness  and  his 
L__^       goodness.     The  more  he  did  to  ease  the 
I  burdens  of  men,  the  more  burdens  were 

'^  ^  laid  at  his  feet.  Although  he  went  to 
the  other  side  of  the  sea,  the  multitude  followed 
him.  How  perfect  a  picture  is  this  of  the  throngs 
that  still  are  following  after  Jesus,  seeking  his 
signs,  and  yet  not  altogether  seeking  or  seeing 
him!  Christianity  has  not  passed  beyond  the 
days  of  "loaves  and  fishes,"  and  never  will,  so 
far  as  some  folk  are  concerned.  They  are  always 
drawing   near   to  Jesus,  but  they  never  become 

his  disciples. 

-^^ 

Jesus  had  a  large  place  in  the  thoughts  of  the 
men  of  his  day.  He  has  not  lost  that  place 
to-day.  Where  one  reads  of  Socrates  or  Plato,  a 
thousand  read  of  Jesus.  The  carelessness  and 
the  curiosity,  the  fickleness  and  the  restlessness 
of  the  modern  multitude,  do  not  argue  against 
the  prominence  of  Jesus  in  its  thought  and  life. 
A  great  throng  still  follows  him.  Will  it  find  him 
seated  in  the  midst  of  his  disciples,  and  will  it 
find  me  among  their  number  ready  to  bring  men 
to  him? 

-^ 
0  Ctrist !    ®f)e  muUitube  still  seeks  tJjcc  in 
its  falinbness  anb  tunger  of  tcart!   Mav  it  finb 
tbee  as  21  ijabe  founb  tJjee,  ttje  f)caling,  comfort- 
ing Jfrienb! 


APRIL     TWENTY-ONE 


HFobn  6:  5,  6-  Sfesus  tfjereforc  lifting  up 
i)is  epefi,  anb  feeing  tfjat  a  great  multitube 
tometf)  unto  Ifim,  siatti)  unto  $bilip.  Wi)ence 
are  toe  to  faup  fareab,  tftat  ttjcfic  map  eat?  9nli 
t\)i&  f)E  siaii*  to  probe  \)im:  for  Jje  fjimficlf  fencto 
ttiijat  i)e  tDoulb  bo. 

'HY  did  Jesus  turn  to  Philip?  It  is 
possible  that  he  detected  Philip  sigh- 
ing and  saying,  "Oh,  dear!  what  shall 
we  do?"  In  that  event  Jesus  only 
echoed  Philip's  question.  Our  perplexities  seem 
so  different  when  they  are  oulined  by  some  one 
else.  Philip  must  have  been  caught  completely 
off  his  guard  by  Jesus'  question.  Philip  was 
thinking  of  bread  to  be  bought,  of  a  drain  upon 
the  apostolic  treasury,  of  a  tedious  trip  to  some 
near-by  village.  Jesus  holds  a  mirror  before  Phihp 
and  shows  him  the  image  of  his  own  perplexity. 

The  Master  still  tries  his  disciples.  It  is  not 
to  fmd  out  what  he  shall  do,  but  what  they  would 
have  him  do.  Deficits  threaten  worthy  enter- 
prises; bread  fails  the  famishing  folk  who  have 
depended  upon  us.  China  clamors  in  the  quick- 
ened hunger  of  the  early  morning  of  her  new  day. 
Shall  I  be  so  faithless  as  to  turn  away  from  the 
Bread  of  life  to  the  husks  of  worldly  wisdom,  in 
a  vain  effort  to  feed  the  multitude  without  calling 
first,  last  and  always  upon  Jesus? 

-^ 
©  ilflajJter!   3n  tfjinc  uplifteb  epcs  3  gee  ttje 
image  of  tlje  thronging  multitube  famigfteti  anb 
Ijclplcgs!   tJTfterc  is!  not  brcab  for  it  to  bup,  tf)ou 
act  ti)e  ^ceab  of  life! 


APRIL     TWENTY-TWO 


3fol)n  6:  7.  |3f)ilip  ansbaereb  tint.  tKtoo 
Ijunbrcb  Bfjillingei'  buottf)  of  brcab  is  not  suffi- 
cient for  tljem,  tfjat  cberp  one  map  take  a  little. 

is  useless  to  measure  heart-hunger  by 
pennies  or  shiUings.  Even  the  bewildered 
disciples  knew  that  the  little  they  could  buy 
would  have  to  be  subdivided  into  crumbs  to 
feed  the  multitudes,  Philip  probably  stated  the 
problem  in  its  baldest  terms  —  two  hundred  shil- 
lings—  an  almost  unthinkable  drain  upon  their 
common  treasury,  and  this  sum  would  not  buy 
even  a  little  bread  for  everyone.  This  is 
always  the  way  with  our  mortal  mathematics. 
We  are  always  baffled  when  it  comes  to  solving 
spiritual  problems  by  a  rule  of  three.  We 
reckon  the  cost  of  saving  a  soul  in  terms  of 
a  postage  stamp  a  w^eek.  Money  has  its  value 
even  in  the  kingdom  of  God,  but  only  when  it 
has  been  coined  anew  at  the  mint  of  spiritual 
love  and  sacrifice.  Bread  that  is  bought  will 
never  feed  the  starving  multitudes  —  it  must  be 
bread  that  is  given. 

Am  I  trying  vainly  to  secure  for  myself  or  for 
others,  by  purchase,  what  God  only  waits  to  give, 
"without  money  and  without  price"?  Blessed 
arc  the  poor  and  needy  who  come,  hungry,  to 
him!     He  will  not  turn  them  empty  away. 

^^ 

®  ILorb!   ^11  tfjc  millions;  on  eartf)  are  not 

gufficient  to  faup  one  crumb  of  tf)c  Jlreab  of 

life!   ?@reaU  tf)ou  tfjc  KJreab  of  life,  tfjpself.  to 

me  anb  to  all  toto  f)unger.  Jfor  ttp  name's  safee! 


APRIL     TWENTY-THREE 


Sfotn    6:    8,    9.     0nt    of    tis    bificiplcs!, 
Slntjrcto,   ^imon  Jeter's  brother,  gait!)  unto 
l)im,  W^txt  is  a  lab  \itxt,  tuto  tatf)  fibe  faarlcp   . 
loabesi,  anb   tb)o  ixiiyti:   but  b)I)at  ace   tijegc 
among  iso  manp? 

ANDREW  began  his  discipleship  by  bring- 
ing his  own  brother  to  Jesus.  He  is 
still  true  to  his  mission,  for  he  takes  the 
lad  and  brings  him  to  Jesus.  There  is  a 
suggestion  of  willingness  on  the  part  of  the  boy 
to  give  his  loaves  to  the  Master  In  part,  because 
he  was  a  boy,  and,  in  part,  because  of  the  appeal- 
ing need  of  the  multitude,  he  doubtless  drew  near 
to  the  disciples.  Who  would  hsten  to  him?  Not 
Philip  or  Peter.  Andrew  must  have  had  some 
inward  drawing  toward  the  boy,  for  he  was  willing 
to  be  his  spokesman  and  to  take  him  upon  a 
"fool's  errand."  Andrew  learned  that  it  is  never 
a. fool's  errand  to  bring  one's  all  to  Jesus. 

-^ 
Do  I  find  my  portrait  among  those  who  are  ^t 
the  end  of  their  resources  and  who  have  not  laid 
the  burden  upon  Jesus?  Am  I  like  Philip,  think- 
ing of  buying  bread,  or  like  Andrew,  willing  to 
lead  any  humble  child  to  the  Master,  or  like  the 
lad  himself,  willing  that  my  all  should  become 
Christ's  own?  The  little  I  have,  he  wants  and 
waits  to  receive.  Shall  I  withhold  from  him  even 
my  poor  barley  loaves  and  my  small  fishes? 

-$^ 
€>  tbou  tobo  bibsft  bitUtnglp  reteibe  tbe  gift  of 
a  bop'g  trust  anb  bebotion!  Jfotbib  tbat  3f  sboulb 
gibe  tf)ec  less  tljan  fje!   jHap  mp  poorest  gifts 
be  mabe  cici)  because  tiiep  ace  giben  to  tijeel 


APRIL     TWENTY-FOUR 


HTofjn  6:  10.  ^Tcsus;  saib,  Jflafee  Hje  people 
git  bofcon.  i^otu  tfjere  toas  mutt  Brass  in  tlje 
place.  ^0  tfje  men  sat  tioban,  in  number  about 
fibe  tbousanb. 


^^HE  Master  would  not  permit  the  multi- 
tude to  become  a  mob.  "Order  is  heav- 
en's first  law."  A  restless,  surging  crowd 
is  transformed  into  a  peaceful  family, 
breaking  bread  around  a  common  board.  The 
disciples  carried  Jesus'  command  as  live  wires  the 
current  from  the  dynamo.  Soon  every  man  was 
seated  —  a  symbol  of  security  in  the  midst  of 
plenty.  On  the  passover  night  of  old  they  ate 
their  unleavened  bread,  standing,  girded  for  their 
long  journey.  On  this  day  they  were  seated  and 
they  ate  their  meal  in  calmness  and  in  peace. 

-^' 
Jesus  would  teach  me  to-day  this  lesson  of 
needful  trust.  God's  bounty  is  not  lying  on 
counters  waiting  to  be  seized  by  irreverent  souls, 
as  men  often  snatch  hurried  lunches  on  their 
rush  through  life.  God's  bread  is  always  in  God's 
hands,  waiting  to  be  blessed  and  broken.  It  is 
unworthy  of  a  child  of  God  to  eat  in  fear  or  haste. 
My  Master  will  not,  cannot,  break  the  Bread  of 
life  to  me,  unless  I  sit  in  humble  reverence  at 
his  feet,  waiting  his  word,  dependent  upon  his 
bounty,  and  trusting  him  for  every  need. 

0  tf)ou  tasto  fjast  furnistjeb  mp  table  in  quiet- 
ness! 3  tnoulb  sit  at  t\)v  feet  anb  reccibe  tljc 
bountp  of  tbp  broken  breab! 


APRIL     TWENTY-FIVE 


M 


STofjn  6:  II.  3Fe)Sug  tjjcrcfotc  toofe  tfje 
loabes;  anb  Ijabing  gibcn  tjjankg,  fjc  bistrifa- 
utcli  to  ttem  tljat  toerc  set  bobon;  libctoise 
alio  of  ti)e  fisijes  as  muci)  as  tijep  tooulb. 

ESUS'  blessing  of  the  bread  was  brief  but  it 
was  complete.     He  was  thankful  for  his  Fa- 
ther's love  and  care,  for  the  hungry  multitude 
whose  wants  he  was  able  to  supply;  for  faith- 
ful if  not  perfect  disciples,   for  the  lad  with  his 
loaves  and  fishes, .for  his  cross  and  his  crown. 

When  and  where  did  the  multiplying  of  the 
bread  take  place?  We  are  ready  to  beheve  that 
the  multiplying  power  touched  the  bread  as  it 
lay  broken  in  Jesus'  hands.  The  miracle  was  not 
merely  one  of  multiplied  loaves,  but  of  an  in- 
exhaustible supply. 

The  Master  is  not  destitute  to-day.  The 
Bread  of  life  which  he  broke,  he  still  gives.  His 
bounty  never  fails.  It  is  not  mine  to  hoard  his 
goodness,  but  to  distribute  it  to  others.  I  would 
not  try  to  keep  for  myself  a  single  bit  of  God's 
good  gift,  lest,  keeping  it,  I  should  lose  it.  I  would 
sit  at  his  feet  and  receive  at  his  hand  the  Bread 
of  life  which  cometh  down  from  heaven. 


"|Srea&  ttjou  tbe  breab  of  life, 
JDear  ILorb,  to  me, 
3s  ti)ou  bibst  breab  tije  loabes 
lUesibc  tlje  sea!" 


APRIL     TWENTY-SIX 


SToftn  6:  12.  Slnb  tofjcn  tfjcp  toctc  fiUeb,  fjc 
saitij  unto  jjis  bistiplesf,  0at\)tx  up  tfje  farobcn 
pieces  tnljicf)  remain  ober,  tijat  notljing  fac  logt. 

™^HERE  is  a  divine  difference  between 
economy  and  parsimony.  The  Lord  of 
life  who  gives  us  richly  all  things  to 
enjoy   has   no   room  in   his   universe  for 


waste.  He  lavishes  his  good  gifts  upon  his 
creatures,  but  in  his  giving  safeguards  against  the 
loss  of  that  which  is  least.  The  same  divine  hand 
that  put  the  unit  of  omnipotence  before  the  human 
ciphers  of  bread  and  fishes,  bids  us  gather  up  the 
fragments,  "that  nothing  be  lost." 

-^ 
If  the  Master  could  not  afford  to  waste  the  bread 
he  had  so  abundantly  multiplied,  I  dare  not  be 
improvident  with  "broken  pieces."  The  pathway 
of  my  pilgrimage  is  scattered  with  odd  moments, 
hmited  opportunities,  partial  accomplishments. 
"Let  them  lie  where  they  fall!"  is  the  voice  of 
ease,  while  the  loving  command  of  my  gracious 
Lord  rings  out,  "Gather  up  the  broken  pieces.  .  . 
that  nothing  be  lost."  Ere  I  heed  my  Master's 
voice  and  seek  to  save  for  my  own  profit  the 
fragments  of  life  that  have  slipped  from  my 
hand,  may  I  have  grace  to  lift  my  eyes  upon  the 
multitude  and  see  whether  anyone  yet  remains, 
to  whom  I  might  give  the  Bread  of  life. 

0  tJjou  taf)o  bibst  Qibe  tfjpseU  for  tfte  fjcart 
ijunger  of  men!  Jforbib  tfjat  3  fifjoulb  toasfte 
tijc  least  of  mv  gifts  anb  forgibc  me  if  II  fjabc 
been  eating  mj>  fareab  alone! 


APRIL     TWENTY-SEVEN 


3fot)n  6:  13.  ^o  tfjep  gatljereb  tfjem  up, 
anb  fiUeb  ttuelbe  baektti  botti)  broken  pieces 
from  tl)c  fibc  faarlep  loabcji,  toticJ)  remaincb 
ober  unto  ti)em  tjjat  I)ab  eaten. 

""^HE  manna  of  old  spoiled  overnight.  It 
was  good  to  use  and  not  to  keep.  So 
was  the  broken  bread  which  the  Master 
prepared  for  his  unbidden,  though  not 
unwelcome,  guests  on  the  hillside  beyond  Galilee. 
When  the  five  thousand  had  been  fed,  the  heavenly- 
Giver  a.sked  at  their  hand  every  unused  portion 
of  bread  and  fish,  both  that  he  might  feed  his 
disciples  and  also  that  the  multitude  might  not 
depend  upon  the  bread,  but  upon  him. 

A  basketful  for  every  disciple!  That  seems  to 
some  to  be  a  coincidence.  Granted;  the  divine 
marvel  does  not  cease.  It  is  the  coincidence  of 
faith.  When  the  Master's  will  and  mine  meet 
upon  the  pathway  of  life,  there  is  always  blessing, 
if  we  are  walking  in  the  same  direction. 

-$^ 
The  multitude  still  hngers  about  my  Lord, 
famished  and  faint.  He  continues  to  bless  and 
break  the  bread  as  he  did  by  Galilee.  He  sends 
me  forth  to-day  to  carry  life  to  starving  souls. 
Shall  I  hoard  his  loving  gift  and  soon  lose  it  and 
him?  Rather  may  I  give  until  the  need  I  meet 
is  met  by  him.  Then  my  gathered  fragments 
will  become  his  glorious  bounty.  Feeding  others 
in  his  name,  by  his  own  hand  will  I  be  fed. 

Jfeeb  me,  0  ILoth,  tljat  3  map  feeb  tfje 
Ijungrp  iouU  ot  men  anb  toomcn  anb  little 
cljilbren  toitJ)  tfje  JSreab  of  life! 


APRIL     TWENTY-EIGHT 


STofjn  6:  14,15.  i!Mt)en  tfjccefore  tfje  people 
«ato  tlje  gign  tDf)icf)  ftc  bib,  tfjep  gaib,  ©tisf  t£^ 
of  a  truti)  tfje  pcopljet  tljat  comcti)  into  tfje  toorllj. 
Jesuss  tbcrefore  pcrceiUing  tfjat  tfjeptoere  about 
to  come  anb  take  f)im  fap  force,  to  make  Ijim  feing, 
toitfjbretu  again  into  tfje  mountain  f)im«clf  alone. 

ESUS  heard  the  rumbHngs  of  a  rising  storm. 
In  order  to  save  the  people  from  the  sudden 
release  of  their  pent-up  enthusiasm,  which 
JJ  would  have  brought  down  upon  them  and  him 
alike  outward  distress,  and  upon  his  soul  inward 
burdens  they  could  not  understand,  he  withdrew 
into  the  mountain,  alone.  The  Prophet  who 
could  feed  them  in  the  wilderness  was  just  the 
sort  of  king  they  wanted.  In  that  hour  he  saw 
with  human  terror  the  meaning  of  their  adulation. 
He  beheld  the  palm-strewn  way  upon  which 
they  would  have  him  walk  to  kingship,  and  lo! 
it  led  to  the  abyss.  There  was  no  crown  for  him 
save  that  which  he  was  to  receive  when  he  had 
borne  his  cross. 

The  descendants  of  the  ancient  folk  still  live. 
They  would  make  Jesus  king  of  their  social  order, 
the  herald  of  their  era  of  toilless  Utopia.  They 
measure  the  truth  of  his  gospel  by  the  measure  of 
cpeature  comforts  they  enjoy  as  its  professed  fol- 
lowers. What  if  my  Saviour  had  failed  to  with- 
draw into  the  mountain  with  God  alone,  when 
men  sought  to  make  him  king?  He  did  not  fail. 
He  never  fails!     Jesus,  my  Saviour  and  my  King! 

-^ 
0  tfjou  baljo  bibgt  ntUcr  fail  me  in  anp  Ijour! 
Jforfaib  tfjat  3  gfjoulb  fail  tijee  in  anptfjing  tljis 
bap! 


APRIL     T  WENT  Y-NINE 


ETotjn  6:  16,  17.  glnb  toben  cbcning  tame. 
ifii  tsi&ciplea  tuent  boton  unto  tlje  )Sea;  anb 
tftcp  entereb  into  a  boat,  anb  bocrc  going  obec 
tbe  ita  unto  Capernaum.  3nb  it  toast  noto 
barfe,  anb  SFesus  ftab  not  pet  come  to  tijcm. 

ARK,  and  without  Jesus!  Hearts  with- 
out number  have  ached  because  in  the 
hour  of  darkness  the  loved  one  did  not 
draw  nigh.  Jesus  had  left  his  disciples 
with  the  multitude.  In  the  evening  time  they 
made  ready  to  return  by  boat  to  Capernaum. 
Should  they  leave  without  Jesus?  At  last  the 
darkness  fell  upon  them,  and  Jesus  had  not  yet 
come! 

How  dark  is  my  own  soul  when  night  draws 
near  without  Jesus!  The  toil  of  the  day  leaves 
me  wearied  and  spent.  The  gentleness  of  dusk 
fades  into  the  boldness  of  the  dark.  A  conscience 
that  has  been  imprisoned  all  day  escapes  under 
the  cover  of  night  and  threatens  me.  "  An  evil 
beast  within  my  heart  has  broken  loose  in  the 
dark  and  I  am  in  mortal  terror.  The  pangs  of 
death  and  hell  get  hold  upon  me,  for  it  is  dark 
and  Jesus  is  not  here.  Be  calm,  my  soul;  thy 
Lord  draws  near  —  "nearer  than  breathing,  closer 
than  hands  and  feet."  I  can  only  feel  his  presence 
first;  then  hear,  then  see.  I  need  not  longer 
dwell  in  the  dark  without  Jesus. 

0  ti)ou  unto  toijom  tf)e  barfanes^sf  ii  asc  bap! 
ILigljtcn  mp  sioul  toitf)  tfte  rabiante  of  tljp  prc£(= 
cnte,  anb  mabc  plain  mp  patb  bp  tlje  guibantc 
of  tljp  J^olp  Spirit! 


APRIL     THIRTY 


Sfofjn  6:  18,  19.  anb  tlje  gea  tuasi  rising 
bp  reasfon  of  a  great  toinb  tijat  bleto.  Wben 
therefore  tJjcp  b^b  rolucij  about  fibe  anb  ttocn= 
tp  or  tljirtp  furlongs,  tijep  beljolli  H^esus  toalb= 
ing  on  tfje  Sea,  anb  braining  nigfj  unto  tfjc 
boat:  anb  tftep  toere  afraib. 

'HERE  is  nothing  worse  than  a  wild  night 
upon  the  waters.  There  is  no  sea  more 
treacherous  than  a  small  one.  There 
are    none    more   terrified    by    the    storm 


than  those  who  are  accustomed  to  the  sea.  There 
is  no  toil  that  is  harder  than  to  row  against  the 
wind  and  tide.  The  scene  furnishes  all  the 
pigments  for  a  vivid  canvas.  The  sturdy 
Galileans  leaned  to  their  oars  and  toiled  man- 
fully. They  could  scarcely  hold  their  own. 
Suddenly,  up  out  of  the  darkness  loomed  a  figure 
walking  upon  the  sea.  Their  fear  was  turned 
into  the  deepest  awe. 

I   have  sometimes,   if  not  often,   been  in  the 
disciples'  boat. 

"I've  wrestled  on  toward  heaven, 
'Gainst  storm  and  wind  and  tide." 
The  night  of  struggle  has  been  wild;  the  sea  of 
my  life  has  been  troubled  and  storm-cast.  Truly 
itris  hard  to  toil  against  wind  and  tide.  Lo!  the 
eternal  God  draws  near.  His  power  breaks 
through  the  barriers  of  distress. 

-^ 
0  tf)ou  tofjom  to  fear  is  tbe  beginning  of 
boisbom!   iHlap  tf)P  perfect  lobe  cast  out   all 
unbjortbp  fear  of  men  or  tijings.  Jf earing  tljcc, 
3  bioulb  lobe  ti)ee  also  anb  albaaps. 


MAY    ONE 


3Iol)n  6:  20,  21.  JSut  be  snitt)  unto  tfjem. 
3t  is  3;  be  not  afraiU.  ©ftcp  tnerc  toilling 
tftercfore  to  reccibc  Jjim  into  tl)c  boat:  anb 
jsttaigjjttoap  tfjc  boat  fcoasf  at  tf)e  lanb  tol)itf)er 
tJjep  tocre  going. 


TERROR  flees  before  Jesus,  but  Jesus 
must  make  himself  known  before  our 
fears  will  ever  subside.  It  makes  all 
the  difference  who  says,  "Be  not  afraid." 
We  sometimes  say  it  to  one  another,  a  sort  of 
"whistling  to  keep  our  courage  up."  We  often 
say  it  to  ourselves  with  chattering  teeth.  It  is 
only  the  Lord  who  tenderly  says,  "It  is  I,"  who 
can  convincingly  say,  "Be  not  afraid."  The 
disciples'  fear  left  them  at  the  word  of  Jesus  and 
suddenly  they  were  at  the  land  whither  they 
were  going.  The  voice  of  Jesus  not  only  ended 
their  terror  but  opened  their  haven.  Can  storms 
of  trouble  resist  his  will?  Are  the  waves  of 
sorrow  mightier  than  he? 

What  a  peaceful  ending  for  a  storm.y  voyage! 
The  Master  himself  welcoming  us,  assuring, 
comforting;  the  haven  itself  inviting  us,  safe  and 
commodious.  Why  should  we  longer  struggle  in 
the  dark,  when  Jesus  is  ready  to  give  us  hght? 
Why  should  we  fear  the  approach  of  unknown 
ill,  when  "Jesus  we  know,  and  he  is  on  the  throne"? 
Jesus  is  still  walking  upon  the  troubled  sea  of  life. 

-^ 
©fWastcr!   i=Hap3fjcar  tfjcc  efap  to-bap.  "3t 
is  3;  be  not  afraib."     ?i?caring  ttjv  toorb,  map 
3  beliebe  it  anb  be  comfocteb  anb  kept! 


MAY    TWO 


f  otn  6:  24.  JEftcn  tfje  multitube  tf)crefore 
gattj  tfjat  "Stiui  toas  not  tftere,  neitfjcr  ftis  bis- 
ciplc£i,  tt)tp  tbcmselbeg  got  into  tbe  boat£(,  anti 
tame  to  Capernaum,  jsccbing  3ti\xi. 


f"  1 1  ^HEY  were  hungry  again  and  were  seek- 
ing Jesus.  They  embarked  in  the  little 
boats  and  crossed  to  Capernaum.  There 
are  several  noteworthy  things  about 
their  search.  It  was  earnest,  it  was  urgent,  it 
was  genuine;  and,  the  record  tells  us  later,  it  was 
successful.  We  may  find  fault  with  their  motives 
in  seeking  Jesus.  He  had  fed  them;  he  surely 
would  feed  them.  Therefore  let  them  find  him 
and  be  fed!  Dare  we  blame  them  because  they 
did  not  see  the  full-orbed  glory  of  the  Son  of  God, 
because  they  had  mixed  motives  in  trying  to  find 
Jesus?  Have  we,  upon  the  basis  of  nineteen 
centuries  of  gospel  light,  risen  to  heavenly  heights 
in  our  seeking  of  Jesus?  Do  we  never  think  of 
what  Jesus  may  have  to  give  us  of  the  things  that 
perish  and  always  consider  only  his  best  gifts? 

•«^ 
I  know  full  well  that  my  seeking,  if  as  urgent 
as  that  of  the  multitude,  is  often  as  unworthy. 
Yet  I  would  not  cease  from  seeking.  It  is  better 
to  ^eek  him  with  one  ray  of  light  in  the  midst  of 
the  darkness  than  not  to  seek  at  all.  If  in  any 
way  the  Master  seems  to  have  left  me,  I  would 
seek  after  him  and  find  him. 

0  Cfjrigt!  3  taouIU  ink  tf)ee  fiintcrelp. 
illap  no  (ault  of  mine  feccp  me  from  finbing 
tfjee,  gintc  tfjou  bogt  first  anb  altuaps  scefe  mcl 


MAY    THREE 


J) 


3Jotn  6:  25,  26.  glni  toljen  tfjcp  founb  bim 
on  tf)c  ottjer  isilic  of  tfje  sea,  tftcp  gailJ  unto  tjim, 
3Ral)fai,  tof)en  tamc£(t  tfjou  fjitfjct?  Hfegug  an= 
Ktoereli  ttem  anli  fiaib,  "^crilp,  berilp,  3  gap 
unto  pou,  gc  geeb  mc,  not  because  ^t  gato  signs, 
but  because  pe  ate  of  ti)e  loabes,  anb  biere  fiUeb. 

'^ESUS  was  unsparingly  frank.  He  knew  that 
they  were  after  the  loaves  and  the  fishes  and 
not  after  him.  He  did  not  denounce  their 
seeking  him,  but  their  motives  in  seeking. 
No  doubt  they  were  overwhelmed  with  astonish- 
ment at  his  words.  They  might  have  called 
him  the  chameleon  Christ,  feeding  them  bounti- 
fully to-day,  denouncing  them  unmercifully  to- 
morrow. Jesus  did  not  change  color.  They 
themselves  had  changed.  Instead  of  profiting 
by  his  loving  care,  and  seeing  his  eternal  power 
and  godhead,  they  saw  only  loaves  and  fishes. 

Jesus  has  often  fed  me  upon  the  heavenly 
bread.  Do  I  seek  him  to-day  because  I  desire 
the  bread  that  perisheth?  Do  I  test  his  loving 
care  by  the  good  things  of  the  world  that  he  gives, 
smiling  when  my  table  is  laden,  murmuring  when 
my  earthly  store  dwindles  away?  Surely  my 
heavenly  Father  knoweth  that  I  have  need  of 
"these  things."  I  would  seek  his  kingdom  and 
his  righteousness  first,  then  God  will  add  these 
other  things  to  me. 

©  bountiful  <giber  of  cberp  goob!  <Sibe  me 
t!)e  grace  to  put  first  things  first,  in  orbcr  tljat 
tf)ou  mapest  abb  otfjcr  things  in  tteir  proper 
time  anb  place! 


MAY  FOUR 


STofjn  6:    27.    jfor  fjim  tfjc  Jfatfjer,  cben 
©ob,  Jjatfj  gealeb. 

A  SEAL  denotes  ownership.     It  guarantees 
the    genuineness    of    the    object    upon 
which  It  is  impressed,  and   also  guards 
the  integrity  and  safety  of  that  object. 
It  Jesus  bore  the  seal  of  God,  he  was  God's  very 
own.     His  seal  had  two  sides.     On  the  one  side 
God  s  approval  of  his  genuineness;   on  the  other 
God  s  assurance  of  his  security.     What  was  God's 
seal  upon  Jesus?      It  was  no  magic  mark  upon 
his   face,  no   mystical   cicatrix   of  the  flesh,  the 
brand   of    a    burning    passion    for    holiness,    no 
lleetmg  halo   upon   his   head.     It  was   the  hall- 
mark of  divinity  stamped  upon  every  fiber  of  his 
soul,  disclosed  in  every  word  and  action. 

"Hath  he  marks  to  lead  me  to  him?"     Surely 
he  hath!     Time  has  not  effaced  the  markings  of 
Gods  seal  upon  Jesus.     The  Father's  love  and 
lavor,    his    confidence    and    his    commendation 
continue  to  rest  upon   Christ.     Whom   God  the 

Z^^u^!^  \^^^^  ^^''^^^'  ^^^^"  I  ''efuse  to  recognize? 
Will  God  hold  me  guiltless  if  I  tamper  with  his 
sacred  seal  and  call  Jesus  a  good  man,  a  seer  a 
prophet,  when  God  hath  called  him  "Only  be- 
gotten," "King  of  kings,  and  Lord  of  lords," 
Redeemer"  and  "Judge"? 

#  tf)ou  tofjo  Ijasit  faccn  sealcb  bp  tfjc  Jfatfjcr! 
$ut  tfjine  oton  image  upon  mp  soul  anb  po0- 
fiegg  mc  altosctJjer! 


MAY    FIVE 


3Jo\)n  6:  29.     tKfjis  is!  tfje  tuorfe  of  #ob, 
tl)at  pc  belicbc  on  Ijim  tabom  tjc  ijatl)  sent. 

^^AITH    and    works    constitute    one    of    the 


=^  paradoxes  of  the  gospel.  A  paradox  is  a 
truth  expressed  in  the  form  of  a  contradic- 

^  tion.  Sovereignty'  and  freedom,  law  and 
liberty,  justice  and  mercy,  these  are  some  of  the 
paradoxes  of  the  spiritual  life.  An  old-fashioned 
sermon  once  set  forth  the  relation  between  faith 
and  works  on  this  wise:  "We  are  justified  actually 
by  the  death  of  Christ;  we  are  justified  experi- 
mentally by  faith  in  Christ;  we  are  justified 
evidentially  by  works  for  Christ."  There  is  a 
trysting  place  where  faith  and  works  phght  their 
dual  troth.  It  is  "beneath  the  cross  of  Jesus." 
Faith  is  first  there,  but  "works"  soon  follow. 
This  is  God's  great  work  for  the  world  —  to 
believe  on  his  only  begotten  Son.  It  is  not  the 
building  of  institutions,  the  estabhshment  of 
enterprises,  the  service  of  society  that  is  the 
great  work  of  God  for  men.  These  things  follow 
in  their  place.  Without  faith  in  Jesus  Christ 
they  will  become  confounded  as  the  tower  of 
Babel,  desolate  as  the  "cities  of  the  Plain." 
We  must  believe  before  we  do. 

Would  that  an  abiding  faith  in  him  mi^ht 
clothe  itself  with  works  for  him  every  moment  of 
my  life  this  passing  day! 

0  tJjou  taijosc  meat  it  teas  to  bo  tf)p  Jfatftcr'g 
toill !  ilflap  3f  finb  &otj'6  Inill  for  me  in  truer 
faitfj  in  tJjce!  ILorb.  "3  bcliebe:  ftelp  tfjou 
mine  unbelief." 


MAY    SIX 


SToljn  6:  30.  tKfjep  gaib  tfjerefore  unto  fjim, 
®!lf)at  tften  bocst  tfjou  for  a  sign,  tfjat  tucjmap 
aec,  anti  fadicbc  tfjcc?  total  toorfeest  tfjou? 
>«^ 
'HAT  workest  thou?"  Works  of  mercy 
and  of  healing!  Labors  of  love 
and  sympathy!  The  works  of  God 
wrought  into  the  toil  of  men!  They 
could  not  know  his  works.  They  thought  him 
a  dreamer,  a  fanatic,  an  impostor.  The  con- 
servative men  of  his  day,  no  doubt,  denounced 
him  as  an  agitator,  a  disturber  of  the  peace,  an 
unsettler  of  the  world's  work.  He  made  men 
discontented  with  themselves  and  with  their  lot. 
He  put  righteousness  above  meat  and  drink. 
He  valued  a  man's  soul  more  than  gold.  He 
called  a  certain  rich  man  a  fool,  who  was  arranging 
for  a  most  prosperous  business,  but  leaving  God  out 
of  account.  Jesus'  works  were  not  an  occupation, 
they  were  his  life.  He  did  not  go  to  work  or 
come  from  work;    he  did  not  seek  it  or  avoid  it. 

^^ 
What  workest  thou  to-day,  0  Christ?  Thou 
art  still  the  Healer  of  the  blind  and  sick!  Thou 
dost  daily  bring  the  power  of  God  into  my  daily 
toil.  I  would  faint  in  my  well-doing,  if  thou 
didst  not  work  in  and  with  me.  "What  workest 
thou?"  Everything  that  God  would  work  in 
human  life  and  for  the  life  to  come!  God's  love 
and  righteousness,  his  Kingdom  and  his  glory 
among  men,  these  are  thy  mighty  works.  These 
are  the  works  thou  doest! 

0  Horb  of  labor!   iilap  mp  bailp  toil  faring 
mc  into  falcsseb  fellotosljip  toitlj  ti)ttl 


MAY    SEVEN 


3Fot)n    6:   31,  32.     €>ux    Jfatfjcrfi  ate    tfje 
manna  in  tfjc  toilberncgs;  an  it  i6  totittcn,  J^e 
gabe  tljcm  breab  out  of  beaben  to  eat.     SFesuK 
tijcrefote  sail)  unto  tfjem,  "^crilp,  berilp,  31  sap 
unto  pou.  Hit  toasJ  not   iHossejs  tljat  gabe  pou 
tfje  breab  out  of  ijcabcn;  but  mp  jFatl)cr  gibetfj 
pou  tije  true  breab  out  of  i)ta\jtn. 
-«^ 
T  was  their  "Our  fathers"  against  Jesus'  "My 
Father."     It  was  their  "manna  in  the  wilder- 
ness" compared  with  the  "true  bread  out  of 
heaven":  it  was  Moses  set  up  against  Jesus. 
They  were  putting  their  traditions  of  the  elders 
against  Jesus'  consciousness  of  God;    they  were 
thinking    of    the    bread    that    supphed    physical 
want,  while  Jesus  was  offering  them  the  bread 
that  sustained  the  inner  life.     They  were  wor- 
shiping the  lawgiver,  when  the  One  greater  than 
Moses  walked  among  them  and  they  knew  him 
not.     The  modern  Pharisees  do  the  same.     They 
find  more  value  in  a  tradition  of  their  own  Church 
Fathers  than  they  do  in  the  unquestioned  teaph- 
ing  of  the  words  and  life  of  Jesus.     Somewhere 
in  the  secret  recesses  of  their  hearts  they  have 
enthroned  some  other  name  than  that  of  Jesus. 

What  matters  all  else,  if  I  crowd  Jesus  out  of 
his  rightful  place,  turn  aside  from  his  wonderful 
words  to  the  words  of  men,  set  worldly  wants 
before  spiritual  needs?  Would  that  I  might 
hunger  first  and  always  for  the  true  bread  which 
Cometh  down  from  heaven. 

Jireab  of  life,  broken  for  me!  ILet  me  fecb 
mp  beart  bunger  upon  tl)p  toorb  to=bap,  anb  3 
iSbaU  be  filleb. 


MAY    EIGHT 


fotn  6:  34.  ^fjep  s^ail"  tfjcreforc  unto 
bim,  ILorlJ,  cbcrmorc  gibe  us  ti^ii  bxtab. 

yfE  created  heart  hunger  in  order  that  he 
might  satisfy  it.  He  called  forth  their 
cry,  "Lord,  evermore  give,"  and  then 
•^  ■^  offered  himself.  The  first  result  of  Jesus' 
ministry  among  men  was  to  awaken  in  their 
hearts  a  holy  discontent  with  themselves.  It  is 
not  certain  that  the  cry  of  the  multitude  was 
altogether  sincere.  There  may  have  been  a 
taunt  or  a  sneer  in  the  background.  They  may 
really  have  said:  "You  seem  to  know  all  about 
the  bread  of  life.  Give  it  to  us  always,  since  you 
seem  to  have  a  monopoly  upon  it."  Whether 
their  quest  was  of  the  highest  sort  or  not,  they  did 
not  go  astray  when  they  carried  it  to  Jesus.  He 
did  not  turn  them  away  because  of  their  lack  of 
perfection.  He  saw  the  grain  of  wheat  and  not 
the  bushel  of  chaff.  They  were  hungry  for  living 
bread:  they  confessed  it:  they  felt  that  he  could 
in  some  way  meet  their  need.  How  marvelously 
he  did  meet  it! 

Lord,  evermore  give  me  this  bread.  I  am 
hungry  with  a  heart  hunger  which  began  when  I 
first^aw  Jesus.  I  know  the  blessedness  of  hunger- 
ing for  him  because  he  has  satisfied  me.  I  marvel 
at  the  goodness  of  God  which  gives  me  without 
measure  the  bread  that  cometh  down  from  heaven. 

0  tfjou  tDf)o  f)as*t  mabe  me  to  fjunger  anb 
tbttst  for  rtgtjteousness!  <©il)c  me  tJjc  faloss- 
ttme66  of  being  filleb. 


MAY    NINE 


3Iof)n  6:  35.  3ti\xi  Jtaib  unto  tl)em,  3  am 
tlje  fareab  of  life:  l)c  tftat  tomett)  to  me  filjall 
not  i)utiser,  anti  te  tijat  beltebettj  on  me  stall 
ncber  tfjirst. 

WILL  lift  this  verse  out  of  its  setting  and  see 
it  in  all  its  glory.  I  will  forget  that  it  was 
first  spoken  to  a  fickle  multitude.  I  will 
receive  it  as  though  the  Lord  had  just  spoken 
it  for  the  first  time  and  to  me.  What  if  he  had 
merely  said,  "There  is  a  bread  of  hfe"?  I  would 
then  be  busy  from  morning  till  night  trying  to 
find  it,  but  in  vain.  Suppose  that  he  had  been 
content  to  say,  "I  have  the  bread  of  life"?  My 
hungry  heart  would  run  the  gamut  of  experience 
from  confidence  to  despair,  fearing  lest  I  should 
be  unworthy  to  receive  it.  Since  he  has  said,  "I 
am  the  bread  of  life,"  what  can  I  do  less  or  more 
than  to  take  him  at  his  word  and  come  to  him? 

Famine  is  not  relieved  by  tales  of  past  bounty 
or  by  prophecies  of  the  plenty  that  is  to  come. 
If  the  Master  is  to  feed  the  hungry  multitude 
to-day,  he  must  stand  in  the  midst  of  famishing 
folk  and  boldly  say,  "I  am  the  bread."  Is  Jesus 
the  Bread  of  life  to-day?  How  many  there  are 
who  find  him  so  to  their  hearts'  delight.  May  I 
find  him  so  to-day! 

W^QVL  gibcgt  breab  anb  not  a  stone  to  tfjofic 
tDbo  ask  of  tfjce.  €>  Cfjrist.  gibe  tfjpgelf  to 
me,  tf)ou  JSrcat  of  life! 


MA Y     TEN 


I 


SFobn  6:  37.  Sill  tfjat  fct)f)icf)  tfjc  Jfatftcr  gib= 
ct!)  mc  sfjall  tome  unto  me;  anb  fjim  tijat  tom- 
ett)  to  me  It  boill  in  no  taoisfe  cast  out. 

yrOW   could  he  in   any  wise   cast  out  the 

J      Father's     gift?     What     or     whom     the 

[  J  Father  gives,  he,  the  Son,  must  needs 
receive.  Between  the  Father's  giving 
and  the  Son's  receiving  is  the  soul's  coming. 
Into  what  wide,  welcoming  arms  is  the  repentant 
child  received!  The  Father's  gracious  giving  and 
the  Son's  gracious  receiving  are  the  outstretched 
arms  of  redemption.  They  compass  the  whole 
of  human  need. 

There  is  no  wayward  child  who  may  not  find 
safety  in  such  a  refuge  as  "the  everlasting  arms." 
Jesus  looked  out  upon  the  world  of  his  day  and 
upon  the  world  of  our  day  and  of  all  the  days  to 
come,  and  was  moved  with  compassion  as  he  saw 
the  multitude  scattered  abroad  as  sheep  without 
a  shepherd.  He  opened  wide  the  door  of  his  heart, 
and  by  the  outstretched  arms  of  his  divinity  and 
his  humanity  gathered  to  the  embrace  of  forgiving 
love  every  child  who  was  willing  to  come  home. 

Surely  I  may  find  a  place  between  the  arms  of 
God's  giving  and  Christ's  receiving.  Jesus  never 
wii^l  cast  me  out,  if  the  Father  has  given  me  to 
his  Son.  If  I  sincerely  come  unto  him,  he  cannot 
cast  me  out  because  all  that  the  Father  gives  will 
come,  and  him  that  cometh  he  will  in  no  wise 
cast  out. 

^^ 

(B  ILamfa  of  (gob,  3  come,  31  come. 


MAY    ELEVEN 


3Fotn  6:  38,  39.  Jfot  3  am  come  boton 
from  teaben,  not  to  bo  mine  oban  toill,  but  tfje 
toill  ot  tint  tbat  sent  me.  Slnb  tljis  in  ttie  toill 
of  ftim  tfjat  gent  me,  tl)at  of  all  tbat  tofjitl)  fte 
fjatf)  giben  me  3  filjoulb  lo£(c  notljing,  but  sljoulb 
raise  it  up  at  tfje  last  bap. 

E  came  down  from  heaven  and  brought 
his  credentials  as  the  Ambassador  of 
God.  If  a  human  babe  comes  "traihng 
^  clouds  of  glory,"  what  can  be  said  of 
him  who  was  the  King  of  glory  and  whom  angels 
welcomed  with  celestial  anthem?  He  came  be- 
cause he  was  sent.  His  mission  was  not  alone  to 
receive,  but  to  keep  all  that  the  Father  gave  to 
him.  What  would  be  the  profit  of  receiving  a 
penitent  child  unless  there  were  divine  resources 
by  means  of  which  to  keep  him? 

There  is  more  than  passing  comfort  to  me  in 
knowing  that  the  Saviour  who  receives  so  willingly 
is  the  Lord  who  keeps  so  securely.  I  once  lost, 
at  the  hands  of  a  marauder,  a  priceless  heirloom 
which  never  can  be  replaced;  but  the  Son  never 
loses  what  the  Father  has  given  him.  His  honor 
and  the  honor  of  the  Father  are  at  stake  in  the 
security  of  my  soul.  He  will  at  last  receive  me 
into  that  glory  from  which  he  came  down  in  order 
to  save  me.     What  a  wonderful  Saviour  is  Jesus! 

0  tijou  toljogc  hjill  toag  to  bo  tljc  Jfatfjer'a 
toilll  M^V  3  learn  to  bnob),  to  lobe  anb  to  bo 
tt)p  tDilU 


MAY    TWELVE 


3Iof)n  6:  40.     Jfot  tJjisi  is  tfje  tnill  of  mp 
Jfatf)cr,  tf)at  cbctp  one  tftat  facfjolbctl)  tfte  ^on, 
anil  bcUcbctlj  on  tim,  fijjoulb  fjabc  eternal  life; 
anb  3  toill  raise  tint  up  at  tije  last  bap. 
-^ 
^  EHOLDING     and     believing.     We     may 
=^  behold   without   believing,  but  we   cannot 
|\  beheve     without      beholding.      John     the 
—^^  Baptist    cried,    "Behold,     the    Lamb    of 
God!"   but   many  who   saw   the   Lamb   did   not 
beheve  on  him.     Pilate  could  say,  "Behold,  the 
man!"  but  the  mocking  crowd  was  not  a  company 
of  believers.    "Beholding,"  is  looking  with  the  eyes, 
it  may  even  be  with  the  eyes  of  the  heart.    The 
eyes  of  my  beholding  may  be  full  of  tears,  they 
may  even  be  fixed  for  a  season  upon  Jesus.     It  is 
not  enough.     Believing  must  follow  beholding. 

Men  often  stop  just  short  of  believing.  Their 
attention  is  arrested.  Their  interest  is  aroused. 
Some  powerful  presentation  of  the  claims  of 
Christ  has  moved  them,  but  only  to  "beholding." 
The  will  of  God  is  that  by  beholding  and  believing 
men  might  have  eternal  life.  It  is  fitting  that  I 
should  find  out  whether  my  attitude  toward  God's 
Son  is  the  casual  one,  wherein  I  look  upon  him, 
but  not  as  my  Lord  and  my  God.  If  so,  I  am 
uifdone  and  my  profession  is  futile.  I  would 
believe  with  all  my  heart.  Between  these  ap- 
pointed pillars,  "beholding"  and  "believing,"  I 
would  enter  into  eternal  life,  this  day. 

-^- 
<©  ilflastet!   3  f)abc  facfjelb  ttce  in  tljp  glorp 
anb  3  faeliebc  on  tfjee.    (©ibe  me  eternal  life 
tljis  bap! 


MAY    THIRTEEN 


3Iol)n  6:  41,  42.  tKlje  3JctoS  tl)crefore  mur= 
mureli  concerning  fjim,  faecaugc  f)c  saiii,  3  am 
tfje  farcatJ  toljict)  came  boton  out  of  tjcaben. 
glnli  tbcp  siaiD,  Ssf  not  tijig  STesusi,  tfjc  son  of 
SJojiepf),  tuljose  father  anb  mother  tae  bnoto? 
})oto  botf)  l)c  nolo  sap,  31  am  come  boton  out  of 
l^eabcn? 

'E  are  inclined  to  murmur  at  statements 
of  truth  we  do  not  understand.  Every 
great  discovery  has  been  welcomed  by 
the  murmuring  of  men.  Jesus  endured 
that  contumely  which  is  the  lot  of  all  pioneers, 
but  he  endured  more  than  they.  He  set  at 
naught  the  rehgious  conceptions  of  his  hearers 
which  to  them  were  final.  Among  the  things 
which  infuriated  his  enemies  were  his  calm  assur- 
ance of  the  truth,  his  identification  of  himself 
with  God,  his  assertion  of  his  own  indispensable- 
ness  to  the  fife  of  the  world. 

-^ 
Have  the  murmurings  ceased?  His  "other- 
worldUness"  does  not  cease  to  irritate  those 
whose  "god  is  the  belly,  and  whose  glory  is 
in  their  shame,  who  mind  earthly  things."  I 
would  that  no  trace  of  such  self-righteousness 
might  be  found  within  my  soul.  Rather  let  me 
take  him  at  his  word  and  feed  upon  him  to-day, 
who  is  the  Bread  of  life,  come  down  from  heaven 
to  satisfy  the  hungry  soul  with  goodness. 

€>  tCfjou  onip  begotten  of  tJje  Jfatfjer,  toljo 
bibfit  come  boton  out  of  fteaben!  3  bcliebe  on 
tljec!  iHlap  mp  belief  Icnb  neto  strcngtfj  to  tl)i)S 
bap'g  lifel 


MAY  FOURTEEN 


SJoljn  6:  43,  44.  STefiJus  anshjcrcb  anb  gaib 
unto  tf)cm,  iHlurmut  not  among  pourgelbcs. 
i^o  man  tan  tome  to  me,  txtept  tfje  jfatJjer  tljat 
gent  me  brato  tint:  anb  31  toill  taisfe  i)tm  up  in 
tlje  last  bap. 


=^HIS  truth  is  the  complement  of  another. 
Jesus  had  said,  "AH  that  which  the 
Father  giveth  .  .  .  shall  come."  He  now 
defines  and  therefore  safeguards  the  truth 
by  declaring,  "No  man  can  come  .  .  .  except  the 
Father  .  .  .  draw  him."  The  first  is  an  assurance  of 
access  to  the  humblest  sincere  searcher  after  God: 
the  second  is  a  solemn  warning  of  failure  to  the 
person  who  seeks  without  sincerity.  The  Father 
gives  to  Christ  and  draws  through  Christ.  "All," 
the  universal  affirmative,  whom  God  gives,  Christ 
will  receive.  "No  man,"  the  particular  and  yet 
universal  negative,  will  come  to  Christ  unless  the 
Father  draws  him. 

•*^ 
There  is  life  and  death  for  me  to-day  in  this. 
God's  attitude  to  me  in  Christ  determines  my 
attitude  toward  God  through  Christ.  Will  I 
come?  Do  I  come?  Has  the  Father  given? 
Does  the  Father  draw?  Will  Christ  receive? 
It  is  mine  to  answer  only  these  questions  which 
concern  me.  The  Father  will  draw  and  the  Son 
will  receive.  I  must  come,  now  and  sincerely. 
I  may  come,  surely  and  safely.     I  will  come  this 

very  moment  with  the  fullest  trust. 

-^ 
l^olp  Jfatijcr.  h)f)o  ftast  giben  tf)inc  onlp  ^on 
for  mp  rebemption!   IDraba  mc  tfjis  bap  neater 
tJjpsfeU  fap  tf)c  totbi!  of  tfjp  lolie! 


MAY   FIFTEEN 


3fot)n  6:  55.    Jfor  mp  flcfifj  is  meat  in^ccli, 
anb  mp  blooti  t£i  tirinb  intieeti. 

r^LESH    and    blood,"    "meat    and    drink," 


— ^    —  these    are    the    strings    of     a    musical 
instrument,     usually     attuned    to    a    low, 

^  sensuous  pitch.  The  master  musician, 
even  the  Master  himself,  heightens  the  strings  to 
concert  pitch,  and  teaches  us  how  to  produce 
heavenly  harmonies.  His  flesh  and  blood,  by  the 
process  of  his  obedience  to  the  Father  to  do  whose 
will  was  his  meat  and  drink,  became  glorified  with 
spiritual  attributes.  It  is  not  the  flesh  itself 
that  is  carnal:  the  flesh  that  inherits  corruption 
is  the  flesh  that  is  set  upon  itself,  that  is  its  own 
end,  that  has  no  purpose  outside  of  its  own  proc- 
esses. The  man  who  makes  the  will  of  Christ  his 
daily  meat  and  drink,  enters  into  the  inheritance 
of  the  glorifled  flesh  and  blood  of  the  Son  of  God. 

-^ 
It  is  my  daily  duty  to  do  the  will  of  God  in  flesh 
and  blood.  I  must  play  upon  the  "harp  of  the 
senses"  and  yet  make  heavenly  harmony.  I  am 
emboldened  to  do  this  because  he  "is  now  bone  of 
my  bones,  and  flesh  of  my  flesh,"  and  because  he, 
the  divine  Son  of  God,  has  taken  to  himself,  for- 
ever and  a  day,  a  perfect  human  nature,  and  has 
become  my  Brother  and  my  Friend. 

iWap  3  infjcrit,  0  bibine  3^ebccmcr.  bp  tfjc 
bcBctting  of  tlip  state,  hv  tfje  trabail  of  tfte 
neto  fairtl)  anb  h^  tfjc  life  of  faitlj,  tbp  flesfj 
anb  falooli,  anb  mafee  tfjp  toill  mp  baUp  meat 
anb  brink! 


MAY   SIXTEEN 


JJ 


STofjn  6:  63.  2(t  ig  tljc  gpitit  tfjat  gibetft  life: 
tf)e  flcstj  piofitetf)  nottjing:  ttjc  taorbss  tfjnt  3 
ijabc  spoken  unto  pou  are  spirit,  ant)  ate  life. 

ESUS  again  completes  a  truth.  "Flesh  and 
blood!"  Here  is  the  material  substance  of  the 
body.  To  what  avail  is  the  substance  with- 
out life  in  it?  Of  what  use  the  harp  if  there 
be  no  musician  to  pluck  its  strings?  A  Master 
with  his  violin  and  one  string  can  make  more 
music  than  a  music  store  full  of  grand  pianos 
and  all  sorts  of  stringed  instruments  without  the 
touch  of  man.     It  is  the  spirit  that  gives  Ufe. 

The  words  of  Jesus  continue  to  create  life.  He 
breathes,  through  his  word,  upon  the  listless 
fibers  of  the  soul  and  the  quickening  begins.  The 
same  Spirit  which  will  raise  us  up  at  the  last  day, 
gives  us  the  life  of  the  Spirit  in  the  midst  of  the 
flesh  to-day.  We  are  not  disembodied  spirits, 
but  spirits  that  must,  for  a  season,  dwell  in  the 
tabernacles  of  flesh.  It  is  well  to  apply  the  words 
of  the  Master  to  every  phase  of  Ufe,  to  the  solution 
of  its  economic  and  its  social  problems,  and  to 
the  interpretation  of  its  inner  realities  and  values. 
How  utterly  I  will  fail  if  I  fail  to  let  his  words  be- 
come spirit  and  life  to  my  own  self!  What 
B^rgson,  the  eminent  French  philosopher,  calls 
the  "urge  of  life,"  I  seek  and  find  in  Christ,  whose 
words  more  simple  and  more  profound  than  the 
"divinest  philosophy,"  are  "spirit,  and  are  life." 

^pcafe  unto  me  to-bap,  <D  (SolJ,  tfjc  tooriijf  tijat 
ate  spitit,  anti  arc  life,  for  IFesus  Cfjiist's  i«abe! 


MAY    SEVENTEEN 


ETofjn  6:  64.     JJut  tfterc  ate  gome  of  pou 
tfjat  faeliebe  not.     Jfor  "Scsui  feneto  from  ttje 
faeginning  bote  tbcp  buerc  tbat  beliebcti  not,  aritt 
toI)o  it  toast  t^at  dijoulti  betrap  i)int. 
-^■ 

"^HE  heaviest  mortal  burden  Jesus  had  to 
bear  was  the  knowledge  of  faithless  fol- 
lowers. The  taunts  and  sneers  of  his 
enemies  were  goads  by  means  of  which 


they  daily  sought  to  torment  him,  but  with  which 
they  missed  their  mark.  The  stroke  which  all 
but  broke  his  heart  was  that  which  fell  upon  him 
from  the  cruel,  cowardly  hands  of  unbelieving 
disciples.  Since  Jesus  had  staked  his  case  upon 
the  witness  of  chosen  and  prepared  disciples, 
when  a  link  in  that  chain  became  weakened  it 
imperiled  his  whole  cause.  The  Master  never 
gave  up  even  a  treacherous  follower  until  the  end. 
In  the  darkness  of  the  last  hour  he  called  Judas 

"Friend." 

-$^ 
He  knows  my  inwardness,  whether  it  is  of  faith  or 
^treason.  He  is  patient  because  he  is  eternal,  be- 
cause he  is  love.  He  still  stands  saying  tenderly 
but  solemnly,  "There  are  some  of  you  that  be- 
lieve not!"  Well  may  my  heart  cry  out  to-day, 
"Is  it  I,  Lord?"  If  I  do  so  cry  in  penitential 
entreaty,  with  inward  loathing  of  the  treachery 
that  has  lodged  within  my  breast,  he  will  smile 
upon  me  in  compassionate  recognition  and  say, 
"I  have  loved  thee  with  an  everlasting  love!" 

jForfaib,  €>C|)ri£!t  of  <^oi3,  tfjat  fap  anp  "base 
tiental"  D  dtjoulli  liepart  ftom  tt)cel 


MAY   EIGHTEEN 


3Io|)n  6:  66.  ?apon  tfjig  manp  of  fjis  bis- 
cipleff  bient  bacU,  anti  tualbeti  no  moce  biitt)  tjim. 

-^- 
OING  back  upon  Jesus!"  This  was  the 
sad  apostasy  of  those  who  stumbled  at 
his  hard  sayings.  They  "went  back, 
and  walked  no  more  with  him."  They 
could  not  have  done  otherwise  without  a 
change  of  heart.  They  would  not  walk  with 
him  since  he  persisted  in  talking  of  things  which 
they  did  not  care  to  understand.  There  are  many 
to-day  who  are  "going  back  upon  Jesus."  His 
hard  sayings  about  sin  and  salvation,  about  him- 
self and  ourselves,  have  become  distasteful  to 
those  who  follow  him  for  the  "loaves  and  fishes." 
Nine  times  out  of  ten,  they  lay  the  blame  upon 
Jesus.  It  is  his  "hard  sayings"  and  not  "their 
hard  hearts."  It  is  his  imperious  challenge  and 
not  their  selfish  refusal.  He  still  endures  the 
"gainsayings  of  sinners,"  but  one  day  "he  that 
sitteth  in  the  heavens  shall  laugh:  the  Lord  will 
have  them   in   derision." 

Backsliding  is  an  ancient  but  an  age-long  sin. 
It  lays  its  shameful  lash  upon  my  soul.  I,  too, 
have  turned  my  back  upon  him  and  have  hidden 
my  face  from  him.  What  boundless  grace  is  his 
that  he  should  ever  call  and  welcome  me  again! 
I  will  gladly  go  back  to  him,  who  has  the  words 
of  eternal  life. 

0  Horb!  iHlap  toe  tear  t|)|»  boicc  entreating 
us,  (Moulb  ^t  also  go  atoap?  QTten  gibe  ub; 
grate  to  gap,  ^a  tuljom  g|)aU  toe  go?  tfjou  fjast 
tt)e  toorbs  of  eternal  life. 


MAY   NINETEEN 


HToJjn  6:  67-69.  ^tiwi  Kaili  tljercfore  unto 
tftc  ttocltie,  JEoulb  pe  also  go  atoap?  Linton 
^etcr  anstuercti  )^\m.  ILorb,  to  tuijom  stall  toe 
go?  tfjou  tast  tftc  tooriis  of  eternal  life.  Sinli 
toe  tiabe  faeliebeti  anti  knoto  ttjat  ti)ou  act  tlje 
Holp  0nt  of  (©oil. 

TTE  said  it  to  the  Twelve.  The  inner 
circle,  bound  to  him  by  strongest  ties, 
threatened  to  fade  away.  He  saw  the 
seeds  of  cowardly  fear  in  all  their  hearts 
and  he  discerned  the  bitter  root  of  denial  in  the 
changeable  heart  of  Peter  and  the  poisonous  root 
of  betrayal  in  the  sordid  soul  of  Judas.  Knowing 
all  of  this  he  asked  them,  "Would  ye  also  go 
away?"  Jesus  needed  no  confirmation  of  his 
faith  in  himself.  He  sought  no  estabUshing  of 
his  faith  in  them.  He  pleaded  for  no  increase  of 
their  faith  in  themselves.  He  appealed  only  for 
a  renewing  of  their  faith  in  him. 

My  soul  is  not  less  in  peril  than  the  souls  of 
the  members  of  the  inner  circle  of  the  Twelve. 
He  is  still  "sifting  out  the  souls  of  men  before 
his  judgment  seat."  Will  fear  of  men  lead  me 
to  the  denial  or  the  betrayal  of  my  Lord?  "To 
whom  shall  we  go?  thou  hast  the  words  of  eternal 
life." 


ttc  peace   of  tfje   Jf^olp  €>x\t   of  <goIi 
possess  mp  soul,  anb,  being  siftcti  let  me  ccp, 
*'JJe  stoift,  mp  soul,  to  anstoer  tim, 
?8e  jubilant,  mp  feet." 


MAY    TWENTY 


^Toftn  7:  I.  9nb  after  tf)tit  tijings  STesfug 
tualkeb  in  (Galilee:  for  i)t  tooulb  not  taoalb  in 
3Jul)2a,  btcauat  tf)c  3Fetog  sougtjt  to  bill  tint. 

'HE  attitude  of  unbelieving  men  set  lim- 
itations upon  Jesus'  earthly  ministry.  He 
walked  in  Galilee  but  not  in  Judea, 
because  in  the  latter  place  men  sought 


his  life.  He  loved  Galilee  neither  less  nor  more 
than  Judea.  Capernaum  could  not  crowd  Jeru- 
salem out  of  his  heart  and  life.  His  refusals  and 
his  acceptances  were  not  made  upon  the  basis 
of  caprice  or  favor.  He  never  imposed' iron-clad 
conditions  as  to  times  and  terms.  He  was  willing 
to  walk  upon  any  pathway  that  led  to  the  hearts 
of  disciples.  It  was  self-righteous  men  who 
built  barriers  upon  his  kingly  way;  who  barri- 
caded his  access  to  the  hearts  of  men  by  their 
hatred  and  unbelief. 

There  are  places  where  Jesus  will  not,  cannot 
keep  company  with  me  to-day.  "The  counsel 
of  the  wicked,  .  .  .  the  way  of  sinners,  .  .  .  the  seat 
of  scoffers"  are  no  fit  places  for  him.  He  will 
not  darken  the  door  of  the  church  that  denies 
his  cross  and  that  lives  in  selfish  pride,  refusing  to 
become  a  witnessing  church.  He  will  not  enter 
Within  my  heart  to-day  if  its  threshold  is  barri- 
caded with  sordid  passions  and  pride  and  with 
loveless  indifference  to  the  welfare  of  my  fellow 
men.  I  would  not  go  where  he  cannot,  will  not 
go  to-day.     I  would  "go  with  him  all  the  way." 

-$($► 
Hljclp  mc,   mv   itlastcr,   to   tnalfe   in  patijS 
ti)i]crein  tijou  tost  tidisijt  to  boalb  tuitij  me! 


MAY    TWENTY-ONE 


3Iof)n  7:  4,  5.  jFor  no  man  boctf)  anptfjing 
in  secret,  anb  {jimseU  gccbctl)  to  be  fenotan 
openlp.  M  tljou  boest  tijt&e  ttjings,  manifesft 
t^pgelf  to  tfte  tuorlb.  Jfor  ebcn  fjis  faretljren 
bib  not  faeliebe  on  Ijim. 

=/HEY  were  demanding  the  impossible. 
Jesus  did  not  and  could  not  manifest 
himself  to  the  world.  It  was  not  a  part 
of  his  purpose  or  his  program  to  reveal 


himself  to  the  world.  Revelation  is  founded  upon 
the  reality  of  kindred  spirits.  Truth  cannot  be 
revealed  to  a  stone  or  love  to  a  physical  force. 
Like  is  revealed  to  like.  Spirit  is  in  fellowship 
only  with  spirit.  The  world  to  which  his  earthly 
brethren  demanded  that  he  reveal  himself  was  the 
world  which  had  no  place  for  him  and  no  point 
of  contact  with  him.  Jesus'  only  and  perfect 
way  of  manifesting  himself  was  by  calling  men  out 
of,  the  world  and  making  them  disciples.  Then 
he  revealed  himself  to  his  disciples.  His  brethren 
who  did  not  believe  on  him  forgot  that"  his  secret 
was  open  to  anyone  who  would  receive  it  through 
the  access  of  discipleship. 

Have  I  yet  learned  that  the  secret  of  the  Lord 
is  with  them  that  fear  him?  Do  I  still  wait  for 
visible  triumphs  of  the  King  before  I  will  permit 
him  to  teach  me  the  code  language  of  his  kingdom? 
Do  I  rejoice  in  the  outward  tokens  of  Christ's 
popularity  more  than  I  do  in  the  assurance  of  his 
inward  power  over  human  lives? 

(g5ibc  me  tljp  secret,  <D  ILorb,  tJjat  3  map  be- 
Uebc  on  tijcc! 


MA  Y    T  WE N  T  Y-  T  WO 


SFofjn  7:  13.     ^et  no  man  spake  openlj*  of 
Ijim  for  fear  of  tije  STctog. 


"=^riE  cowardly  succession  has  not  ceased. 
The  modern  counterpart  of  the  "fear 
of  the  Jews"  ties  the  tongues  of  the 
timid.  The  boy  away  from  home,  at 
college  or  at  work  in  a  distant  city,  runs  to  cover 
"for  fear  of  the  Jews."  The  young  woman  who 
desires  to  move  in  upper  social  circles  does  not 
let  her  faith  in  Christ  have  sway  in  her  hfe  "for 
fear  of  the  Jews."  The  modern  man,  immersed 
in  a  business  of  which  he  dare  not  make  his  Master 
the  unseen  Partner,  soon  dissolves  all  entangle- 
ments with  Jesus  "for  fear  of  the  Jews."  The 
man  who  comes  to  Christ  by  way  of  secret  repent- 
ance and  trust  soon  returns  to  the  far  country 
from  which  he  came,  "for  fear  of  the  Jews."  We 
will  talk  openly  of  weather  and  war,  politics  and 
business,  morals  and  immorality.  We  hesitate  to 
talk  openly  about  Jesus,  "for  fear  of  the  Jews." 

If  such  a  subtle,  deadly  paralysis  has  seized 
my  soul,  tying  my  tongue  and  binding  me  hand 
and  foot,  God  give  me  healing  grace  to  go  forth 
unafraid  of  men  and  unashamed  of  Jesus.  May 
ir  be  mine  this  very  day  to  plant  the  Rose  of 
Sharon  in  the  midst  of  the  world's  barren  small- 
talk  and  turmoil.  I  would  first  learn  the  secret 
and  then  speak  openly  of  Jesus! 

J^olp  Spirit  of  <£^oli!  (Enbue  mc  toitf)  tour= 
age  anb  lopal  lobe  so  tftat  3(  map  speak  openlp 
of  mv  ^abtout  all  tftc  toljile  anb  eberpfcofjere! 


MAY    TWENTY-THREE 


Sfotjn  7:  16,  17.   3tim  therefore  . . .  saib 

3lf  anp  man  toiUctlj  to  bo  ))\i  tuill,  ijc  sfjall 
bnotQ  of  tte  teactjing,  tobttfjcr  it  i£(  of  <©ob,  oc 
tol)ctl)cc  3  gpeab  ftom  mpgclf. 

T  has  been  said  that  "love  is  an  organ  of 
knowledge,"  "Loving  obedience"  is  the  con- 
dition of  assurance.  It  is  not,  however,  the 
perfect  doing  of  God's  will  that  is  made  the 
condition  of  knowledge.  Such  a  test  would  rule 
us  all  out.  It  is  "willing  to  do  his  will."  This  is 
the  test  that  will  not  cause  the  humblest  beginner 
to  fail  if  he  be  a  sincere  seeker  after  the  will  of 
God.  Jesus'  method  is  not  that  of  worldly 
wisdom.  The  latter  seeks  salvation  by  knowledge, 
by  culture,  by  character.  We  must  know  and 
then  we  will  do,  is  its  maxim.  Beneath  its  plausi- 
bility is  this  spiritual  rock  upon  which  all  false 
faiths  are  broken;  we  must  surrender  to  the  divine 
will  before  God  will  disclose  his  mind  to  us. 

My  path  to-day  will  be  an  aimless,  vicious  circre, 
if  I  simply  seek  to  grow  by  knowing.  I  must 
break  the  bondage  of  self-righteousness  and  move 
Godward,  impelled  by  loving  obedience.  A 
dozen  times  between  dawn  and  dusk  I  may  feel 
the  grim  walls  of  my  prison  house  of  intellectual 
limitations.  The  key  to  the  opening  door  .is 
mine,  if  I  will  but  will  to  do  his  will.  Then  I  will 
know. 

3^eIca)Sc  mc,  0  strong  JDdibcrer,  from'tfte 
bonbage  of  gcU^tutU,  tijat  in  tije  frccbom  of 
fruitful  itx\i\tt  3  map  finb  "  tfjc  boill  to  bclicbe!" 


MAY    TWENTY-FOUR 


U 


3Iot)n  7:  18.  ^t  tJjat  gpeabetf)  from  Jjim- 
gelf  scefeetf)  l)ig  oton  glorp:  but  J)e  tJjat  secbetf) 
tfje  glorp  of  i)im  tJjat  sent  i)tm,  tfje  sfamc  ifi  true, 
anb  no  unriQi)teousinc£f£i  t£(  in  tint. 

"^ESUS  was  announcing  a  principle,  but  he  was 
doing  more,  he  was  embodying  it.  It  is 
easy  to  talk  abstractly  about  "not  seeking 
one's  own  glory,"  about  saying  "No"  to 
oneself.  To  do  it  —  "ay,  there's  the  rub!" 
What  Jesus  said,  he  did,  and  "no  unrighteousness 
is  in  him!"  Nineteen  centuries  have  broken  upon 
his  cross,  but  it  remains  unshaken.  The  inspired 
apostolic  witness  is  confirmed  to-day  at  the  lips 
and  in  the  lives  of  millions.  "No  unrighteousness 
is  in  him."  If  there  had  been  the  least  defect 
or,  what  Sidney  Lanier  calls  the  "rumor  of  a  flaw," 
it  would  have  been  discovered  long  ago. 

-^- 
This  is  far  from  saying  that  Jesus  passes  by 
unchallenged.  There  were  those  then  who  found 
fault  with  Jesus  and  there  are  those  now.  The 
fault  they  find  with  him  is  like  a  mole's  criticism 
of  the  sun.  The  things  of  which  men  accused  him, 
so  far  as  there  was  any  foundation  in  fact  as  the 
basis  of  even  their  distorted  accusations,  are  seen 
to-day  as  positive  ethical  virtues.  "There  is  no 
uifrighteousness  in  him."  But  more  —  he  is  the 
fount  and  source  of  all  righteousness.  He  offers 
me  a  perfect  righteousness.  His  seamless  robe 
is  mine  to  wear  by  the  title  of  faith.  I  would 
wear  it  and  it  alone  to-day. 

©  tfjou  iRigfjtcougncgg  of  (Sob!  Clotftc  mc 
toitf)  ttpself  tbis  bapl 


MAY    TWENTY-FIVE 


Hlobn  7:  19,  20.  Bib  not  jHoscss  gibe  pou 
tt)e  lata,  anb  pet  none  of  pou  bcctf)  ttjc  lata? 
Wii)V  sieefe  pe  to  kill  me?  ®tje  multitubc  an= 
fitocreb,  ®f)ou  tast  a  bcmon:  tol)o  Beefectf)  to 
bill  tftce?  • 

-§^ 

'HE  people  of  his  day  believed  in  evil 
spirits.  Events  whose  causes  could  not 
be  located  within  the  commonplace  circle 
of   their   traditions   they  were   ready   to 


ascribe  to  unseen  spirits.  We  must  not  forget 
how  constantly  Jesus  must  have  set  at  naught  all 
their  conventions.  What  earthly  cause  could  they 
discover  which  would  provide  for  him? 

Yet  there  was  more  than  superstition  in  their 
fling  at  him.  There  was  something  of  bitterness 
that  could  only  have  been  accounted  for  by  the 
tremendous  moral  impact  he  was  making  upon 
their  self-righteous  lives.  They  were  ill  at  ease 
in  his  presence.  His  exalted  spiritual  frame 
overtowered  them  and  his  other-worldliness  over- 
awed them.  When,  therefore,  he  discovered  the 
certain  outcome  of  their  fanatical  opposition  to 
him  and  put  their  immature  hatred  in  grown- 
up clothes,  they  not  merely  resented  it  but  cast 
it  in  his  teeth,  "Thou  hast  a  demon."  Are  there 
after  all  any  halfway  estimates  upon  the  life  and 
worth  of  Jesus? 

I  have  learned  before,  but  I  learn  anew  to-day, 
that  it  was  not  a  demon  but  the  Holy  Spirit  who 
was  the  secret  of  Jesus'  power. 

Spirit  of  (g^ob,  bcstcnb  upon  mp  Ijcart, 
anb  fill  mc  toitb  mp  ^aUiour'fi  loUc! 


MAY    TWENTY-SIX 


R 


HToljn  7:  24.  3Iubge  not  accorbing  to  ap- 
pearance, but  julige  rigbtcouss  jubgment. 

"^T  is  uncommonly  hard  to  do.  Appearance  is 
a  captivating  witness  that  Minds  the  jury- 
to  the  truth.  She  is  the  mistress  of  designing 
spirits  and  sells  herself  with  treacherous 
eagerness  to  the  highest  bidder.  She  secures 
passports  to  society  for  those  who  will  acknowledge 
her,  and  gives  the  purloined  garments  of  respecta- 
bility to  anyone  who  wants  to  wear  them  to  cover 
up  his  shame.  She  deceives  for  a  time  even  "the 
elect,"  because  what  she  seems  covers  up  what 
she  is.  Eventually  she  deceives  no  one.  Her 
fmery  fades;  her  credentials  are  dishonored; 
her  mask  is  torn  off.  It  is  wretched  enough  to 
be  caught  in  her  toils;  it  is  inexcusable  to  put 
judgment  in  her  hands.  She  is  no  fair  Portia, 
meting  out  a  higher  justice,  but  a  creature  of 
caprice,  who  would  sell  judgment  for  a  song. 

If  men  would  but  listen  to  the  pleadings  of 
righteous  judgment,  there  are  many  broken  homes 
that  would  be  estabhshed  again  and  many  broken 
hearts  that  would  be  healed.  There  are  many 
proud  souls  who  would  be  brought  low  and  many 
of  low  estate  who  would  be  exalted. 

^^ 
God  forbid  that  I  should  be  caught  this  day  in 
the  snare  of  that  which  seems  to  be  what  it  is  not! 

<^ibe  me,  0  TLoxtj,  tfte  guibance  of  rigfjtcouB! 
jubgmcnt,  anb  let  me  jubge  tl)is  bap  as  3 
bjoulb  be  jubgeb,  foigibe  as;  31  tooulb  be  for- 
giben! 


MAY    TWENTY-SEVEN 


3fofjn  7:  26.  9(nb  lo,  l)t  gpcafactf)  openlp, 
anb  tbcp  isap  netting  unto  i)im.  Can  it  be 
ttat  tte  rulecg  tnbeeb  bnob)  ti)at  ti)i£(  i£i  tije 
Ctjrisit? 

=^  VIDENTLY  they  did  not,  and  as  evidently 
-^  they  do  not!  If  they  had  known  that 
he  was  the  Christ,  "they  would  not  have 


-===^  crucified  the  Lord  of  glory."     If  they  knew 


that  he  was  "King  of  kings,  and  Lord  of  lords," 
they  would  not  dare  to  establish  unrighteousness 
by  law.  Do  the  rulers  know  that  Jesus  is  Christ? 
How  can  they,  when  they  "set  themselves,  and 
.  .  .  take  counsel  together"  against  the  Lord's 
Anointed?  If  the  rulers  knew  who  he  was,  and 
is,  the  program  of  their  legislation  would  be  the 
program  of  his  kingdom;  the  constitution  of 
their  realm  would  be  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount; 
the  spirit  of  their  dominion  would  be  love  and  not 
greed;  and  would  issue  in  peace,  not  in  awful  war. 
The  rulers  will  learn,  but  only  as  they  come  to 
him  in  the  simplicity  of  the  humblest  child. 

Perchance  I  belong  to  the  "ruling  class"  and 
have  those  in  authority  under  me.  I  am  as  mean 
as  the  meanest  subject  in  all  my  realm  unless  I 
have  the  spirit,  and  acknowledge  the  lordship  of 
Jesus.  I  would  pray  to-day  for  all  in  authority 
from  the  President  of  my  country  to  the  least, 
that  they  may  know  that  Jesus  is  Christ  and  may 
bow  before  him.  What  I  covet  for  them  I  would 
also  crave  for  myself. 

3leiue,  3  faclicbc  in  tfjcc!   illap  otijcra  also 
beliebc  anb  be  gabeb! 


MAY    TWENTY-EIGHT 


3roJ)n  7:  30.  tEftep  gougfjt  tijcrefore  to  take 
ftim:  anb  no  man  laib  tis  ftanb  on  ftim,  because 
i)is  fjour  toas  not  pet  come.     , 

"^HEY  were  like  hounds  at  the  leash.  They 
wanted  to  tear  him  to  pieces  but  they 
were  restrained  by  a  higher  power. 
"They  sought  ...  to  take  him"  — that 
measures  the  infamy  of  their  sin;  "no  man  laid 
his  hand  on  him"  —  that  marks  the  limit  of  their 
power.  What  an  indescribable  glory  must  have 
been  about  his  person  to  have  prevented  their 
sacrilegious  touch!  Hugo's  hero,  the  Mayor  of 
M.,  confessing  his  identity  as  Jean  Valjean,  the 
galley  slave,  before  the  court  at  Montfermeil 
walked  out  unscathed,  for  no  man  dared  lay  hands 
upon  him,  but  soon  the  ruthless  Javert  "nailed 
him,"  and  his  hour  had  come.  The  aura  which 
surrounded  Jesus  was  of  a  diviner  sort.  After- 
ward men  did  lay  hands  upon  him,  for  his  hour 
had  come.  They  buffeted  him  and  nailed  him 
to  the  tree!  The  hour  of  his  passion  had  struck. 
The  hour  of  his  intercession  is  passing  to-day. 
To-morrow  will  dawn  the  hour  of  his  final  triumph. 

I  would  seek  him  to-day,  but  only  for  salvation 
^nd  guidance.  I  would  lay  my  hand  upon  him, 
but  only  the  penitent  hand  of  faith.  If  I  but 
come  to  him,  his  hour,  my  hour  will  come,  and  we 
shall  dwell  together  the  livelong  day. 

0  Cfjrist!  iWap  tJjis  be  tfje  fjout  ol  tijp  fcl- 
Iob)sf})tp  iaiti)  me! 


MAY    TWENTY-NINE 


EFoljn  7:  31.     |@ut  of  tt)e  multitube  manj»  bc= 
licbcti  on  tint;  anb  tjjep  gaib,  21It)cn  tljc  Cljrigt 
Stall  come,  toill  tjc  bo  more  fiigng  tfjan  tljofic 
tofjicfj  tbis  man  Ijatt)  bone? 
-^ 
r^HIS  is  a  fair  test  for  those  who  do  not 
beheve   that   Christianity   is   final.     The 
men  and  women  who  pass  Jesus  by,  and 
ghbly  or  even  wistfully  talk  of  the  "new 


religion"  or  "ultimate  faith,"  must  answer  this 
question.  When  the  new  "Anointed"  appears 
what  more  will  he  do  than  Jesus  did?  Will  he 
reveal  the  love  of  God  more  fully?  Will  he  speak 
more  truly  or  more  tenderly  to  broken  hearts? 
Will  he  supersede  or  abrogate  the  Gospels  and  the 
Epistles?  Will  he  establish  festivals  more  joyous 
than  Christmas  and  more  glorious  than  Easter? 
Will  he  awaken  more  lively  hope,  summon  more 
confident  faith,  quicken  more  genuine  love?  Will 
he  tell  us  more  about  heaven?  Will  he  pay  a 
greater  price  for  sin  than  Calvary?"  Will  he 
usher  in  a  more  glorious  kingdom  than  the  king- 
dom of  God? 

"All  that  came  before  me  are  thieves  and 
robbers"  is  the  unhesitating  challenge  of  Jesus 
the  Christ.  All  who  profess  to  go  beyond  him, 
to  supersede  him,  must  stand  this  test.  Every 
spirit  that  confesseLh  not  that  Christ  is  come 
in  the  flesh  is  antichrist. 

©  Cftrist  of  ^\6\Qxv\  QTfjou  art  tf)c  Cfjrist 
of  experience.  tCbere  ii  room  in  mp  f)catt  foe 
tbee,  anb  for  tijee  alone! 


MAY    THIRTY 


lotn  7:  36.  Wjat  is;  tfjis  taorti  tfjat  fje 
gaib,  gc  stall  sieck  me,  anb  sftall  not  finti 
mc;  anti  tofjerc  3  am,  pc  cannot  tome? 

'^O  wonder  that  they  wondered.  Since 
they  did  not  understand  whence  he 
came,  they  could  not  fathom  whither 
he  was  to  go.  His  words  breathed 
mystery,  though  not  defiance.  They  were  per- 
plexed at  his  saying,  but  not  angered.  Jesus 
was  not  gloating  over  his  escape  from  them,  but 
grieving  over  their  loss  of  him.  He  was  moved 
to  pity  by  their  ignorance  and  to  sorrow  by  their 
unbelief.  The  free  gift  of  life  which  had  been 
offered  them  in  him,  and  which  they  had  spurned, 
would  soon  be  offered  them  no  more.  The  Master 
did  fulfill  his  word,  though  not  in  the  manner  which 
they  expected.  It  was  not  to  the  Greeks  of  the 
dispersion  or  to  the  gentiles,  but  unto  the  heavenly 
places,  that  he  went,  "far  above  all  rule,  and 
authority,  and  power,  and  dominion." 

Jesus  is  ever  a  seeking  Saviour.  He  longs  for 
the  lives  of  men.  He  seeks  even]  me  with  an 
eagerness  that  is  divine.  0  that  I  may  seek  him 
sincerely  and  by  faith!  The  day  will  come, 
after  long  and  oft-repeated  rejections,  when  I 
may  seek  him  and  not  find  him.  If  I  will  not  come 
to  his  cross  I  may  not  come  to  his  crown.  If  I 
do  not  seek  him  with  penitential  tears  to-day, 
I  will  not  be  able  to  find  him  in  the  last  great 
day. 

Xct  me  geeb  tf)ce  noto,  €>  Itort,  anb  3  toill 
ftnb  ttjec! 


MAY    THIRTY-ONE 


3Fof)n  7:  37.  if^otjj  on  tt)c  last  bap,  tJje 
jjrcat  bap  of  tte  feast,  SFefius  stoob  anb  crieb, 
saping,  Sf  anp  man  tljicfit,  let  Ijim  come  unto 
me  anb  brink. 

•St*- 

A  GREAT  discovery  is  not  always  pro- 
claimed: it  is  frequently  announced  only 
to  a  chosen  few.  Jesus  sometimes  made 
use  of  the  latter  method.  He  offered 
the  water  of  Hfe  to  a  lone  Samaritan  woman, 
when  even  his  disciples  were  not  present.  Now 
he  stands  in  the  midst  of  the  festal  throng  and 
proclaims  to  everyone  who  has  ears  to  hear  his 
discovery  of  the  water  of  hfe. 

His  proclamation  was  not  only  pubhc,  but 
urgent.  "He  cried,"  because  to  have  whispered 
or  to  have  heralded  in  commonplace  tone  would 
not  have  been  consistent  with  the  importance  of 
his  message.  His  proclamation  was  also  final. 
It  was  the  last  day  of  the  feast.  He  alone  could 
give  the  water  of  life.  He  could  give  it  only  to 
those  who  would  come  unto  him  and  drink. 

I  need  to  come  to  him  to-day  as  fully  as  did  men 
of  old.  My  friends  and  companions  and  the  un- 
thinking multitude  in  its  feasting  or  in  its  fasting 
are,  alike,  still  athirst.  The  Lord  of  Hfe  still 
proclaims,  "Come  unto  me  and  drink."  Since  I 
thirst,  I  will  come.  Since  others  thirst,  I  will 
not  come  alone.  Since  I  have  found  the  water 
of  life  in  him  I  will  bring  others  to  him,  to-day. 

dlWap  3  Ijcar  tJjp  inbiting  boice,  0  ^on  of 
<^ob,  anb  tome  unto  tljee  anb  brink  anb  ncber 
ti)ics;tl 


JUNE    ONE 


3fo{)n  7:  38.  J^e  tfjat  bclicbetfj  on  me,  as 
ti)c  scripture  t)atf)  sfaib,  from  ti)itt)tn  })tm  sijaU 
flott)  cibersi  of  libins  tuatec. 

ERPETUAL  motion  would  be  a  nine  days' 
wonder  compared  with  a  life  that  is  sus- 
tained by  its  own  processes.  Was  this 
what  Jesus  meant?     Was  he  teaching  men 


D 


that  the  secret  of  strength  and  peace  was  within 
themselves?  Yes  and  no!  Yes,  if  they  would 
but  look  within  their  own  souls  for  the  upspringing 
of  life,  for  the  risings  into  consciousness  of  the 
power  of  God.  No,  if  looking  within,  they  looked 
no  farther  and  no  deeper:  if  finding  life  within 
their  hearts  they  did  not  discover  hidden  channels 
from  the  divine  fountain.  Jesus  did  not  lead  men 
to  the  fountain  and  bid  them  carry  away  in 
bottles  its  refreshing  flow.  He  unstopped  per- 
petual fountains  within  their  own  souls. 

What  a  miracle  of  grace  is  this,  that  I  may  carry 
with  me  the  fountain  of  life!  On  the  desert  way, 
in  crowded  mart,  in  multitude  or  in  solitude,  I 
need  but  to  thirst  in  order  to  drink.  There  is 
no  vainglory  in  this,  however,  for  it  is  only  by  the 
welcomed  indwelling  of  his  Holy  Spirit  that 
living  waters  will  flow  forth  from  me  to-day. 
While  many  rush  every  whither  in  feverish  anxiety 
for  a  satisfaction  they  never  find,  it  is  mine  to 
have  within  my  heart  the  very  surcease  of  joy 
and  peace. 

©nstop  tf)e  fountain  of  life  tuittin  mp  ftcart, 
0  S>pitit  of  <goi>,  for  HTe^us'  )Safec! 


JUNE    TWO 


J) 


3Iol)n  7:  43.     ^o  tfterc  arose  a  biUigion  in 
tfjc  multitubc  because  of  fjim. 

ESUS  was  both  a  winner  and  a  winnower  of 
men.  He  attracted  and  he  repelled.  He 
drew  to  himself  with  cords  of  love  that  became 
as  strong  as  bands  of  steel,  yet  that  ever  re- 
mained as  tender  as  a  mother's  arms.  He  thrust 
forth  from  himself  with  a  power  as  explosive 
as  powder  and  as  constant  as  centrifugal  force. 
Whenever  he  spoke,  his  words  became  a  two- 
edged  sword  separating  friend  and  foe.  He  was  a 
winsome  man,  it  is  true,  but  he  did  not  win  all. 
We  must  understand,  however,  that  he  did  not 
create  the  division:  he  only  disclosed  it.  Men 
revealed  what  they  really  were  whenever  they 
came  into  contact  with  him. 

The  division  still  arises  in  human  hearts  and 
men  are  passing  to  the  right  and  to  the  left.  There 
can  be  no  neutral  ground.  Not  to  say  "Yes." 
is  to  say  "No."  To  deny  his  absolute  deity  and 
his  perfect  humanity  is  to  "damn  him  with  faint 
praise."  His  word  of  truth  separates  men  to-day 
not  only  from  him  but  from  one  another.  Is  he 
dividing  my  household  and  do  I  care?  Are  there 
those  whom  I  love  who  do  not  love  him?  Arc  the 
men  or  women  whom  I  will  meet  this  day  eternally 
divided  from  Christ?  I  would  first  be  right  with 
him  myself,  and  then  strive  to  bring  others  over 
the  line  to  be  saved. 

©  Cfjrigt,  tljou  fjast  braton  me  to  tfjpKcUl 
9IZ9(U  ti]ou  not  tirab)  otijcrs  tbcougi)  met 


JUNE    THREE 


3Iotn  7:  46.  ®tc  officers  anstoctcb, 
i^cber  man  so  spafec. 

-^' 

yjT  is  still  true.  His  words  are  as  eagerly  read 
as  they  were  ever  heard.  The  wise  man  does 
not  characterize  the  words  of  Jesus  with  an 
adjective.  He  does  not  describe  them  as 
beautiful  or  strong  or  wise.  Sometimes  we  call 
them  "wonderful  words  of  life,"  but  wonder  does 
not  exhaust  them.  We  speak  of  them  as  "match- 
less words,"  and  yet  that  does  not  describe  them; 
it  only  puts  them  in  a  class  by  themselves.  After 
all,  that  is  the  best  we  can  do.  They  are  the  words 
of  Jesus.     "Never  man  so  spake." 

Jesus  speaks  to-day  of  God  and  heaven,  of  sin 
and  salvation,  of  brotherly  love  and  peace  and 
joy.  I  must  open  my  heart  to  him  and  give 
access  to  his  loving  words  if  I  would  have  life 
eternal.  Commentaries  and  sermons  have  their 
place;  Bible  studies  and  Scripture  readings  are 
valuable  enough.  It  is  the  words  of  Jesus  that 
are  the  Bread  of  life.  It  is  the  entrance  of  his 
word  that  giveth  light.  What  would  I  not  give 
if  I  could  hear  Jesus  speak  to-day!  I  would  hang 
upon  his  lips  and  listen  eagerly  to  every  word. 
Ah,  but  I  may  hear  him  speaking  in  his  Word. 
If  I  will  but  hsten  to  the  voice  of  his  Spirit,  I  may 
hear  him  as  he  takes  of  the  things  of  Christ  and 
shows  them  unto  me. 

0  ttou  toljo  bibst  gpeafe  as  nebcr  man 
spafac!  &\\st  unto  mc  to=bap  tfjc  message  of 
t^p  toonbetful  txjotbs  of  life! 


JUNE   FOUR 


3loi}n  8:  II.    Slnb  jsJjc  saib,  Mo  man,  TLottt. 
Snb  3Fcs(us;  sailJ,  iBtcitljcr  bo  3  conbcmn  tfjcc: 
go  tt){>  tnap;  from  ijencefortt  £(in  no  more. 
-^^ 

"^^HE  oldest  manuscripts  do  not  contain 
the  first  eleven  verses  of  the  eighth  chap- 
ter of  John's  Gospel.  There  is  no  doubt, 
however,  that  they  are  fully  in  accord 


and  on  a  spiritual  level  with  the  authentic  Gospel 
record.  How  Christlike  it  was  and  is!  When 
men  who  were  eager  to  condemn  the  woman  taken 
in  her  sin  dared  not  because  of  their  own  inner 
lives,  he  who  alone  had  the  right  to  condemn, 
refused  to  exercise  it.  What  infinite  relief  it  must 
have  been  to  the  sinning  woman,  who  perhaps  had 
been  led  astray  by  some  of  the  men  who  were  for 
stoning  her,  to  escape  from  their  ferocious  clutches 
into  the  loving  arms  of  the  Son  of  God,  It  was 
not  that  Jesus  spared  her  the  shame  and  sting  of 
her  sin.  She  doubtless  groaned  under  the  guilt 
of  her  heart  when  Jesus  merely  looked  at.  her,  more 
than  when  men  were  crying:  "Stone  her!  Stone 
her!" 

Condemned  no  more:  sin  no  more!  This  is 
the  whole  Gospel  message.  Freed  from  the  bond- 
age of  sin,  be  not  bound  again!  He  who  alone  can 
say,  "There  is  ...  no  condemnation,"  alone  can 
efTectually  command,  "Sin  no  more." 

<g  ^abiour  mine,  toljo  can  conbcmn  mc  tafjcn 
tljou  gapcst,  "Mo  conbcmnation"!  €>  ILorb  of 
mp  life,  f)oto  can  3  continue  to  sin,  in  tf)c  face 
of  tijp  amajing  lobe?  Conbcmncb  no  more,  3 
fcDoulb  gin  no  more. 


JUNE    FIVE 


TT 


SToijn  8:  12.  Sfgain  ttjercfotE  "Stini  fipake 
unto  tfjcm,  gaping,  3  am  tfjc  ligfjt  of  tfje  toorllj: 
tc  ti)at  foUotoctlj  me  sijall  not  toalk  in  tlje  bat:k° 
nesg,  tjut  sfjall  fjabc  tljc  ligfjt  of  life. 

^JE  may  be  the  "light  of  the  world"  but 
he  will  not  be  the  light  of  my  life  unless 
I  follow  him.     It  is  hard  enough  to  sit 

■^  still  in  the  darkness,  not  knowing  what 
dangers  may  lurk  or  what  evil  may  threaten;  it 
is  harder  far  to  walk  in  the  dark,  when  the  curtain 
of  safety  shifts  every  moment;  it  is  hardest  of 
all  to  walk  in  the  darkness  when  one  might  walk 
in  the  light  of  life,  if  only  he  would  follow  Jesus. 
The  person  of  Jesus  is  luminous.  It  is  not  merely 
his  words  and  his  deeds,  but  it  is  himself  that  gives 
light.  There  are  those  whom  we  meet  in  daily 
life  who  exhale  cheer.  We  call  them  radiating 
personalities.  They  have  an  aura  of  goodness 
which  reaches  out  from  a  heart  center  and  includes 
us  in  its  circumference.  Jesus  has  an  eternal  aura 
of  light  and  glory  — ^  wherever  h*e  is,  there  is  light. 

How  eagerly  and  how  constantly  I  ought  to 
follow  him  who  is  the  Light,  and  who  turns  the 
light  of  truth  into  the  life  of  love.  I  would  walk 
to-day  encircled  by  the  heavenly  aura  which  sur- 
rounds Jesus;  and  I  would  draw  nearer  and  nearer 
his  very  heart  every  hour. 

^fjine  upon  mp  f)cart,  tfjou  TCigljt  of  tljetoorlb, 
tftat  in  tbp  Usbt  3  map  sec  life! 


JUNE   SIX 


3rof)n  8:  13,  14.  tCfje  ^barigecg  tfjereforc 
fiaiiJ  unto  i)im,  ®tou  faearesit  toitncfiS  of  tljpseU; 
tl)p  baitnesfs  is  not  ttuc.  ^t&ua  an&\oexcti  anb 
gaib  unto  tftcm,  €ben  if  3  bear  tDitnegs;  of  mp= 
self,  mp  toitnefisi  is  true;  for  3  bnoto  toijcnce  3 
tame,  anb  toljitfjer  3  go;  but  pe  fenoto  not 
tnljencc  3  come,  or  tol)itf)er  3  go. 

'HE  Pharisees  were  trying  to  turn  the  tables 
upon  Jesus,  They  quoted  his  own  words, 
"  If  I  bear  witness  of  myself,  my  witness 
is  not  true,"  and  flung  them  into  his  face. 


Jesus  justified  his  competency  to  testify  of  things 
which  he  knew.  There  was  no  essential  contra- 
diction in  his  testimony,  for  in  each  case  he  was 
justifying  his  right  to  testify  because  his  Father 
had  borne  him  abundant  and  confirming  witness. 

-^- 
There  are  those  to-day  who  try  to  upset  the 
testimony  of  Jesus.  They  are  sure  that  his  words 
upon  hell  and  judgment  may  be  safely  overlooked 
because  he  spoke  so  beautifully  upon  heaven  and 
salvation.  If  Jesus  cannot  tell  the  eternal  truth 
upon  the  witness  stand  of  the  ages,  no  man  can. 
He  has  borne  witness  to  the  truth;  the  case  has 
gone  to  the  jury;  the  verdict  is  in;  the  sentence 
is  pronounced.  "This  is  the  judgment,  that  the 
light  is  come  into  the  world,  and  men  loved  the 
darkness  rather  than  the  light;  for  their  works 
were  evil." 

0  ti)ou  ^on  of  (^ob  tuiti)  poboer,  of  toijom  tije 
l^oljp  Spirit  \)a&  borne  toitnesfsi!  3  beliebe  on 
tftee! 


JUNE    SEVEN 


T7 


JJ 


3Fof)n  8:  24.  3  saib  tfjerefore  unto  pou, 
tijat  pe  sfjall  bic  in  pour  gins:  for  except  pe 
faclicbc  tfjat  31  am  i)t,  pe  sljall  iiic  in  pour  aini. 

ESUS  was  not  talking  to  the  "sinners"  of  his 
day  but  to  the  "self-righteous  saints,"  the 
Pharisees.  They  were  arguing  about  his 
origin  and  his  personality  as  though  it  were 
some  question  to  be  settled  by  debate.  Jesus 
cast  a  bomb  into  their  complacency  by  reassert- 
ing his  oneness  with  the  Father,  and  then  by 
linking  their  bondage  under  sin  to  their  unbelief 
in  him.  "Unless  you  believe  that  I  am  what  I 
claim  to  be,  you  will  die  in  your  sins!" 

The  Master  still  asserts  the  same  imperious 
prerogatives.  "  Believe  on  me  or  die  in  your  sins ! " 
Who  would  willfully  do  the  latter?  There  are 
many,  however,  who  feel  no  urgency  to  do  the 
former.  It  would  be  terrible  to  die  in  one's  sins, 
but  it  is  so  easy  to  fail  to  believe  that  Jesus  is 
the  Son  of  the  Father.  If  I  would  be  free  from  the 
bondage  of  sin  while  I  live  and  escape  the  doom 
of  dying  in  my  sins  I  need  only  believe  that  Jesus 
is  the  Son  of  God  with  power.  This  is  saving 
fjiith,  without  which  I  cannot  live  in  peace  and 
without  which'll  dare  not  die.  I  must  live  this 
day!  I  may  die  this  day!  Living  or  dying  may  I 
be  the  Lord's! 


J^elp  mc  to  facliebe  in  tijcc.  0  Cljrist,  tftat 
t|)e  measure  ot  mv  faitf)  map  be  ttc  measure 
of  mp  jop  in  scrbitc! 


JUNE    EIGHT 


JJ 


3rof)n  8:   29,  30.     Stnb  ije  tfjat'  sent  mc  ii 
toitf)  me;   fte  fjatt  not  left  mc  alone;  for  3  bo  ' 

altoapsf  tfte  ttings  tftat  arc  pleasing  to  f)im.     91s 
l)c  spabe  tfjese  tljings,  man?  faelietieb  on  fjim. 

"^ESUS  reached  the  height  of  fiUal  devo- 
tion. His  assertion  impUed  confidence  in  his 
Father,  knowledge  of  his  will  and  an  inward, 
intimate  fellowship  absolutely  unbroken  by 
cross-purposes  and  misunderstandings.  It  is  no 
wonder  that  many  believed  on  him  when  they 
heard  such  words  as  these.  He  kindled  a  kindred 
fire  within  their  own  breasts  as  he  told  them  of 
his  perfect  oneness  with  his  Father.  Though 
his  words  had  an  other-worldhness,  they  also 
entered  their  hearts  on  the  level  of  their  own 
human  lives.  They  knew  the  realities,  the  needs 
and  the  joys  of  earthly  fatherhood  and  sonship. 
Jesus  held  before  them  in  his  words  and  in  his 
life  the  heavenly  pattern. 


Since  I  do  sincerely  desire  to  have  my  life 
count  to-day,  I  can  find  no  better  way  than  to 
do  always  the  things  that  are  pleasing  to  my 
heavenly  Father  and  to  my  Saviour,  If  God  will 
own  and  bless  the  toil  of  this  day  with  his  own 
approval,  I  may  be  sure  in  the  end  that  men  will 
be  moved  to  beheve,  not  in  me  but  on  him  through 
me.  To  be  well  pleasing  unto  him,  in  word, 
thought  and  deed,  throughout  this  day  —  let 
me  but  make  this  my  motto  and  my  motive,  and 
I  shall  not  have  lived  another  day  in  vain. 

jWap  3  be  tocll= pleasing  unto  tljee  in  cbcrp- 
tbing,  ©  Xorb! 


JUNE   NINE 


3Fo()n  8:  31,  32.  EFcsius;  ttcrcforc  saib  to 
tljosc  SFctos  Ujat  ftab  belicbcb  tjim,  Sf  pe  afaibc  in 
mp  toorlJ,  tfjcn  arc  pc  trulp  mp  bisciplcg;  anb 
pc  sijall  fanoto  tije  truttj,  anb  ti)c  tcuti)  dijall 
mafec  pou  free. 


T7 


ESUS  was  careful  of  his  promises  and  to  whom 
they  were  made.  Men  have  no  warrant  for 
pressing  Christ's  promise  of  freedom  through 
JJ  the  truth,  unless  they  are  willing  to  come  to 
truth  under  the  yoke  of  his  discipleship.  Men 
have  no  right  to  claim  the  blessings  of  discipleship 
unless  they  are  wiUing  to  abide  in  his  word.  The 
prison  house  of  bondage  opens  to  no  other  key 
than  that  of  sincere,  abiding  discipleship  to 
Christ  Jesus. 

I  may  clean  up  my  prison  cell  and  make  it  more 
habitable,  I  may  put  pictures  on  the  wall  and 
books  on  the  table,  and  yet  it  is  still  a  prison  unless 
I  am  set  free.  I  may  walk  out  in  the  prison  yard 
with  the  ball  and  chain  of  an  evil  habit  fettered 
to  my  ankle,  but  unless  I  become  the  disciple  of 
Christ  I  will  not  be  set  free.  The  Pharisees  of 
old  were  in  the  bitterest  bondage  of  all,  self-right- 
eousness. The  vilest  sinner  of  all  is  no  worse  and 
no  better.  My  lot  will  be  the  same  unless  I  follow 
Jesus,  his  true,  abiding  disciple.  Such  would  I 
be  this  day. 

0  tftou  tof)o  art  tfjc  toap,  tftc  trutf)  'attb  ffje 
life!  ^ct  me  free  front  tljc  prison  fjousc  of  gin 
anb  boubt,  anb  beep  me  free  inbeeb! 


JUNE    TEN 


3Fo!)n8:34.  SFcsiug  anstoereb  ttjem,  "^crilp, 
berilp,  3  sap  unto  pou,  <£berp  one  tftat  com= 
mittctt)  fiin  is  tJ)c  bonbserbant  of  sin. 
-^ 
YfT  is  a  bitter  bondage,  too.  We  are  reminded 
of  it  by  the  stinging  of  the  lash  and  the  ran- 
kling of  the  chains.  "I  put  that  packthread 
about  his  paw,"  cried  the  ferocious  Bigrenaille 
to  the  frightful  Thenadier  in  "Les  Miserables," 
when  the  old  man  Jean  Valjean  had  all  but  escaped 
from  the  bandit's  den,  and  was  only  held  by  the 
single  cord  which  he  did  not  have  time  enough  to 
cut.  So  the  Devil  leers  at  us,  no  matter  how 
shrewd  and  designing  our  efforts  to  escape  his 
evil  clutches.  There  is  also  a  shameful  branding 
that  is  a  part  of  the  bondage.  We  may  not 
always  show  it  upon  our  countenances,  though 
sometimes  we  carry  it  upon  the  sensitive  fibers 
of  our  hearts.  The  mark  of  the  serpent  is  there 
like  a  scar  caused  by  burning,  never  healed  and 
always  sore  to  the  probing  touch. 

^^ 
What  of  my  soul  to-day?  Will  I  go  forth  to  my 
accustomed  task,  driven  like  a  fettered  slave, 
daring  neither  to  look  up  nor  to  stand  up?  Will 
false  ambition  crack  her  whip  over  my  bleeding 
back,  or  lust  goad  me  with  her  shameful  barbed 
thongs,  or  pride  lead  me  hither  and  thither  with  a 

ring  about  my  neck? 

-^ 
(2I>  ^on  of  <^ob,  set  me  free!  $ut  ti)P  mar&tt 
abobe  tije  branti  of  sin! 


"  ®t)cn  sftall  all  bonbagc  tease, 
mi  fetters  fall! " 


JUNE   ELEVEN 


3rofjn  8:    36.     M  tfjcreforc  tfje  ^on  sftall 
make  pou  free,  pc  sfjall  be  free  inliccb. 

REEDOM   must  be  contrasted  with  false 


^  freedom  as  well  as  with  bondage.  The 
Pharisees  were  boastful  of  their  freedom; 

^  they  were  the  seed  of  Abraham  and  had 
never  been  in  bondage  to  any  man.  They  sub- 
mitted to,  but  did  not  acknowledge,  even  the  Roman 
yoke.  Their  freedom,  the  Master  told  them, 
was  a  grievous  bondage.  Traditions,  ceremonies, 
disputations,  had  them  bound  hand  and  foot. 
It  is  possible  for  one  seeking  to  escape  the  bondage 
of  willful  sin,  to  go  to  the  other  extreme,  and  to 
become  a  slave  to  a  false  freedom  which  binds 
with  the  cords  of  pretense.  There  is  only  one 
real  freedom  and  it  is  found  in  the  will  of  God, 
revealed  in  the  only  begotten  Son.  To  learn, 
to  love,  to  do  the  will  of  Jesus,  this  is  freedom 
indeed. 

What  a  glorious  up-reaching  of  my  spirit  would 
come  to  pass  this  summer  day  when  the  roses, 
true  to  their  nature,  are  opening  their  hearts  to 
the  sun,  if  I  would  but  open  my  innermost  heart 
to  the  Son  of  God  incarnate!  I  would  soar  to 
the  heights  when  now  I  but  flutter  upon  broken 
pinions:  I  would  run  the  race  of  life  as  though 
my  feet  were  hinds'  feet:  I  would  walk  unafraid 
even  into  the  valley  of  the  shadows.  The  Son 
alone  can  make  me  free  indeed. 

jHap  mp  f)cart  expanb  tftts  bap  unber  tt)t  ton- 

N         icioumtss  of  ttjat  freebom   toljicfj  tfjoti  ftast 

brouBftt,  <£>  Christ  tufto  came  to  set  men  free! 


JUNE    TWELVE 


3Iol)n  8:  41.  ge  bo  tfjc  tuorfes;  of  pout 
tatJjct.  ^fjep  fiaib  unto  J)im,  123c  tocrc  not  born 
of  fornication;  tocljafac  one  jFatljcr,  cbcn<Sob. 

'HE  doctrine  of  the  virgin  birth  is  critically 
and  even  contemptuously  assailed  to-day. 
This  is  nothing  new.  There  were  critics 
in  "the  days  of  his  flesh."     They  did  not 


mince  matters,  however,  and  were  willing  to  go 
the  whole  length.  There  are  some  to-day  who  are 
too  sensitive  or  too  cowardly  to  follow  their  logic 
to  its  own  dire  conclusion.  They  would  be  the 
last  to  repeat  the  scandalous  accusations  of  the 
Pharisees.     Can   they   escape   its   conclusions   if 

they  accept  its  premises? 

•^' 
Is  it  safe  for  men  to-day  to  tamper  with  the 
doctrine  of  his  deity  and  with  the  Scripture  record 
of  his  manner  of  entrance  into  the  world  he  was 
to  save?  Are  glib  divisions  of  documents  and 
traditions  and  tendencies  by  those  whose  own 
anti-supernatural  presuppositions  color  every  con- 
clusion, sufTicient  to  shake  the  faith  of  Christendom 
in  the  annunciation  and  the  Magnificat;  in  the 
divine  conception  and  the  virgin  birth  of  Jesiis? 
Jesus  tests  me  to-day.  "If  God  were  your 
Father,  you  would  love  me!" 

iWp  ^aliiour,  3  bo  lobe  tljcc  tljougb  not  asf 
fullp  as  3  ouBbt.  3  trust  tijce  anb  foUobJ  tfjcc. 
3  bclicbc  in  (^ob  tftc  jfatJjcr  aimisfttp,  Jllabcr 
of  bcabcn  anb  cart^:  Sinb  in  fesus  Cljrist  W 
onlp  ^on,  our  ILorb;  toljo  toas  conceibcb  fap  tfjc 
%}o\v  (^tost,  born  of  tfjc  "^Tirgin  iHarp.  3n 
tijis  faitlj  3  Ubc,  anb  bp  it  let  me  bic. 


JUNE    THIRTEEN 


3FoJ)n  8:  46.  iHticfj  of  pou  conbictctf)  me  ot 
)Sin?  3lf  3  gap  trutb,  tofjp  t""  PC  not  faelicbe 
mc7 

4^ 

N  a  single  question  Jesus  sums  up  his  case. 
He  endured  the  two  most  inexorable  tests  of 
sincerity:  that  applied  by  his  most  intimate 
friends,  who  found  no  fault  in  him;  and  that 
applied  by  his  bitterest  enemies,  whose  final 
charge,  that  of  blasphemy,  only  supported  his 
contentions.  Suppose,  for  argument's  sake,  it 
had  been  otherwise.  Think  of  Jesus  as  having 
been  taken  unawares  and  having  been  betrayed 
into  some  overt  act  which,  while  easily  condoned 
in  another,  would  have  blasted  his  pretensions  of 
sinlessness;  would  it  have  made  any  difference  in 
his  influence  over  the  world  and  his  command 
upon  my  soul?  Why  waste  words  in  asking  such 
a  question?  If  he  had  been  convicted  of  even 
the  least  moral  defect,  the  sun  would  have  gone 
out  of  the  heavens  of  grace,  and  Calvary  would 
have  been  the  tragic  end.  There  would  have 
been  no  Easter,  no  Pentecost,  no  Church,  no 
kingdom,  no  heaven  for  .ne!  A  mere  forgiven 
sinner  could  not  "open  the  kingdom  of  heaven  to 
all  believers." 

Which  of  you  convicteth  him  of  sin?  Breathes 
there  a  voice  from  a  soul  so  sodden  in  its  sin  that  it 
is  willing  to  lift  its  shameful  head  and  cry,  "I 
do"?  Helpless  and  harmless,  they  jeered  him  as 
he  hung  upon  his  cross,  but  he  was  sinless,  too. 

CCafec  atoap  mp  sinK,  tijou  gpotlcss  ILamfa  of  (gob! 


JUNE    FOURTEEN 


Slotn  8:  51,  52.  "Vtxxl^,  berilp,  31  sap  unto 
pou,  3f  a  man  feeep  mp  toorb,  te  JSijall  neber 
gee  beati).  Clje  Jttofi  saib  unto  fjim,  iBtoto 
tue  fanob)  ttat  ti)ou  ijast  a  bemon.  ^braljam 
bieb,  anb  ti)e  proptietg;  anb  tt)ou  gapcsft,  3tf  a 
man  feccp  mp  toorb,  i)c  sljall  neber  taste  of  beatf). 

'HEY  were  sure  that  they  had  him  at  last. 
So  many  of  his  sayings  could  not  be 
refuted  by  experience  because  they  were 
out  of  the  pale  of  normal  events.     Here 


was  one  assertion  whose  untruthfulness  they 
were  sure  they  could  demonstrate.  Their  logic, 
though  plausible,  had  its  flaw.  It  left  God  out 
of  its  premises;  it  could  not  find  life  in  its  conclu- 
sions. Granting  their  assumptions,  their  con- 
clusions were  inevitable.  Their  failure  came  in 
trying  to  make  Jesus  a  minor  premise.  He  was, 
unawares  to  them,  the  major  premise  of  life  and 
irnmortality.  Starting  with  mortal  men,  they  got 
no  farther  than  the  grave.  Starting  with  Jesus, 
had  they  but  known  "whom  he  made  himself 
to  be,"  they  would  have  seen  "heaven  opened." 

It  behooves  me  to  walk  this  day  in  living  fellow- 
ship with  one  who  is  the  Lord  of  life,  who  hath 
"abolished  death,  and  brought  life  and  immortality 
to  light  through  the  gospel."  Trusting  him,  I 
may  walk  even  through  the  valley  of  the  shadow 
of  death  and  fear  no  evil,  for  he,  the  great  "Thou" 
whom  I  trust,  is  with  me. 

0  tijou  b){)0  bibst  taste  beatb  ti)at  21  mtgljt 
tabe  tbe  abunbant  life,  eben  in  tt]e  tour  of 
beat!)  map  21  see  not  it  but  onlp  tijee! 


JUNE    FIFTEEN 


3Fol)n  8:  58.  3ti\\&  saib  unto  tfjem,  ^ct= 
ilp,  betilp,  21  Sap  unto  pou,  l^cfore  Sifarafjam 
teas  born,  3  am. 


^^HE  Pharisees  were  continually  bragging 
about  their  relation  to  Abraham.  They 
had  even  used  his  mortality  to  confute 
the  claims  of  Jesus  to  give  freedom  from 
death.  With  one  bold  stroke  Jesus  pierces  their 
pretensions,  and  claims  for  himself  a  place  which 
"Abraham  rejoiced  to  see."  He  knew,  far  better 
than  they  did,  the  glory  of  Abraham;  but  he  also 
knew  that  from  the  hilltop  of  patriarchal  eminence 
the  mountain  peak  of  his  Messianic  preeminence 
loomed  up  into  the  heavens.  This  was  not  all, 
however,  for  he  rose  to  higher  heights  and  declared, 
"Before  Abraham  was  born,  I  am."  Personality, 
preeminence,  preexistence,  all  were  crowned  in  him. 

There  is  a  larger  truth  in  Christ  than  that  which 
is  afforded  a  single  view  of  faith.  In  addition  to 
all  that  he  is  or  may  be  to  the  ages  to  come,  he  is 
the  joy  of  the  ages  past.  The  patriarchs  and  the 
apostles,  the  poets  and  the  philosophers,  the 
seers  and  the  sages,  not  only  of  inspired  Israel 
but  of  the  nations,  looked  forward  to  his  day. 
From  the  bruising  of  the  woman's  seed  and  the 
heralding  of  the  protevangelium  —  the  first 
promise — until  the  angelic  chorus,  "Glory  to 
God,"  he  was  the  joy  of  the  world. 

-^- 
iWap  3  rejoice  to  libc  in  tljp  bap,  0  Cfjrist! 
jHHap  tlji£(  be  tbe  bap  of  tljp  potoer  anb  of  mp 
jop! 


JUNE    SIXTEEN 


3Fof)n  9:  1,2.  Snb  as  j)c  passed  fap,  fjc  Sato 
a  man  blinb  from  fjis  birtfj.  Slnb  fjis  bisciples 
asbeb  f)im,  saping,  B^afafai,  toljo  sinncb,  tf)is 
man,  or  i)t£i  parents,  tijat  ije  stoulb  be  born  blinb? 

yfT  is  noteworthy  that  it  was  his  disciples  who 
asked  him.  Nowhere  does  the  Gospel  record 
make  prodigies  of  the  disciples.  Peter's 
delinquency,  Philip's  limitations,  Thomas' 
doubts  and  the  weaknesses  of  all  of  the  disciples 
are  plainly  set  forth.  The  humanness  of  the  dis- 
ciples has  been  one  of  the  bulwarks  of  the  genuine- 
ness of  the  Gospel  record.  The  disciples  in  this 
question  show  both  how  far  they  have  come  and 
how  far  they  have  to  go  in  their  understanding 
of  the  gospel.  They  have  made  progress  in 
that  they  are  willing  to  consider  it  an  open  ques- 
tion whether  the  man  was  born  blind  or  his  parents 
sinned.  They  are  leagues  behind  the  truth  in 
that  they  are  more  concerned  with  the  curious 
casuistry  of  their  age,  than  they  are  over  the 
good  news  which  Jesus  came  to  bring. 

-^^ 
Jesus'  disciples  to-day  have  not  yet  attained 
unto  perfection,  even  with  gospel  light  streaming 
upon  them  through  nineteen  centuries  of  Christian 
influence.  We  are  still  content  to  theorize  concern- 
ing the  consequences  of  heredity  and  the  moral 
bearings  of  economic  environment.  If  men  would 
but  see  that  there  is  only  one  message,  one  inter- 
pretation of  sin,  one  gospel  of  salvation,  one 
living  Saviour!     Thou  art  he,  Jesus,  my  Lord. 

-^ 
?f)elp  mc  to  bate  mt'  sin  anb  not  to  biscuss  it, 
0  Cbrist  toljo  tame  to  set  me  (reel 


JUNE    SEVENTEEN 


STofjn  9:  3.  ^ciu&  anfitoercti,  J^citfjcr 
bib  tijtsf  man  gin,  nor  Ijis  parents:  but  tfjat  tfje 
tooths  of  (SxiH  £ii)oulb  bt  mabe  manifest  in  \)im. 

'HE  Master  was  not  denying  a  sad  human 
fact.  Science  has  laid  bare  the  grievous 
tragedy  of  human  kist,  and  the  sins  of 
the   fathers   are   being   visited   unto   the 


third  and  fourth  generations.  What  Jesus  was 
answering  was  their  unreasoning  superstition  that 
to  be  born  bhnd  was  an  arbitrary  sign  of  divine 
disfavor.  The  Master  was  trying  to  teach  them 
that  their  whole  viewpoint  was  wrong;  and  doubly 
so  because  they  did  not  take  him  into  account. 
It  may  shock  those  whose  God  is  a  superatten- 
uated  essence  and  not  a  living,  loving,  personal 
Father,  to  be  told  that  the  eternal  purpose  of  this 
man's  bhndness  was  that  Jesus  might  heal  him. 
Such  a  special  providence  is  distasteful  to  those 
who  will  not  permit  the  almighty  Father  to  con- 
trol the  universe  he  has  made.  To  the  believing 
heart,  it  is  a  glorious  revelation  of  the  love  of  God 
to  be  assured  that  even  a  man  born  blind  fitted 
into  the  eternal  purpose,  as  certainly  as  the  tiniest 
atom  in  the  physical  universe  fits  into  its  appointed 
place. 

If  I  will  but  trust  him,  I  may  know  as  surely  as 
the  blind  man  of  old  that  God  has  a  place  for  me  in 
his  plan  which  no  one  else  can  fill. 

iHanifcfit  tfjp  toorbs  in  me,  <JE>  (Sob,  tfjrougfj 
Ijim  toljom  tijou  bibst  scnb  to  be  mp  ^abiouc 
anb  mp  Jfticnb! 


JUNE    EIGHTEEN 


Sfoljn  9:  4.  JflSe  must  tuorb  ttje  toorbs  of 
ftim  tftat  sent  mc,  tojjilc  it  i£«  bap:  tl)c  nigbt 
comctfj,  toljen  no  man  tan  toorb. 

-^- 

"^ESUS  said  it.  Jesus  felt  it.  Though  he  had 
the  seons  of  eternity  at  his  disposal,  he  had 
but  one  earthly  life  to  live  and  his  day  was 
JJ  short.  Day — that  was  the  workshop  of  the  Son 
of  God  on  earth.  It  was  a  busy  place.  "Come," 
he  called  to  his  disciples,  "we  must  work!"  He 
felt  the  shadows  of  the  evening  even  in  the  hours 
of  brightest  morn.  It  may  be  an  exaggerated  bit 
of  art  that  gives  us  the  shadow  of  the  cross  when 
the  young  carpenter  stretched  out  his  arms  in 
Joseph's  workshop.  In  any  event  no  other  man 
ever  spent  so  busy  a  day  and  was  as  certain  as  he 
that  the  "night  cometh."  What  a  solemn  mes- 
sage is  this!  Its  purport  is  not  to  make  me  weep 
but  to  work.  Work!  Work!  Work!  That  is 
the  warning  cry  of  the  onrushing  shadows  of 
night.     "Work  .  .  .  while  it  is  day!" 

-^^ 
I  would  work  with  all  the  enthusiasm  that  would 
be  mine  if  it  were  the  first  day  I  had  to  work: 
I  would  work  with  all  the  determination  that  would 
be  mine  if  it  were  the  last  day  I  had  to  work.  I 
will  work  as  though  it  were  the  day  in  which  my 
Lord  will  work  with  me. 

-^^ 
(&\'ot  mc  tbe  jop  of  labor  toitl)  t^ce,  0  illas;- 
ter,  tfjis  mitijfummer  bap!   fifJlap  tf)C  tarbest 
appear  in  tbine  oton  Qoob  timcl 


JUNE   NINETEEN 


STofjn  0:  5.    JUIfjen  3  am  in  tfjc  tuorlb,  3 
am  ttjc  Usljt  ot  tl)c  tuotlb. 
"^- 
IS  earthly  task  loomed  large  before  Jesus. 
Since  he  had  a  brief  mortal  day  to  live 
he  must  shine  with  the  brilliancy  of  God 
every  passing  moment  of  that  day.     His 
mission,  like  that  lighthouse  on  the  English  coast 
with  its  inspiring,   rock-carved  legend,   was   "to 
give  light  and  to  save  life."     He  could  not  shine 
at  long  range.     Light,  though  it  travels  upon  the 
wings  of  the  interstellar  ether,  must  finally  enter 
the  darkness  and  subdue  it.     Jesus  would  not  have 
been  the  light  of  the  world  if  he  had  not  entered 
its  darkness. 

Has  the  light  gone  out  since  Jesus  left  the  world, 
and  was  he  testifying  as  to  the  brevity  of  his  career 
and  the  limitations  of  his  power  to  shine?  There 
is  a  valid  sense  in  which  his  shining  was  only  pos- 
sible when  he  walked  "in  the  days  of  his  flesh"; 
there  is  a  more  vital  sense  in  which  his  light  shines 
the  brighter  since  the  day  of  his  ascension.  If 
Jesus  has  truly  left  the  world,  then  it  is  in  darkness 
indeed.  My  faith  does  not  rest  in  any  such  con- 
clusion. He  is  still  the  fight  of  the  world,  the  light 
of  my  life. 

"And  in  that  light  of  life  I'll  walk 
Till  traveling  days  are  done." 

0  (Sob!  J^clp  mc  to  sftinc  toitf)  tfjc  ligfjt  ot 
mp  ^abiour  toJjile  3  MMt  on  eartf),  anb  tijen 
recetbc  me  into  tfjc  fuUncsg  of  ttjat  ligfjt  in 
Slorp! 


JUNE    TWENTY 


3rol)n  9:  6,  7.  51JIJ)cn  ijc  ftat"  ftus  jspokcn. 
Ijc  spat  on  tlje  grounb,  anb  mabc  clap  of  ttjc 
gpittlc,  ant  anointeli  tis  cpcs  toitlj  ttje  clap,  anb 
£fatt)  unto  i)im,  <S>o,  toagt)  in  ti)c  pool  of  ^tloatn 
(tojjitl)  iibp  interpretation,  ^ent). 

ESUS'  method  hinged  upon  his  motive.  The 
men  of  his  day  who  impugned  his  motives 
misunderstood  his  method.  The  motive  of 
J/  the  Master  is  clearly  disclosed  in  this  Gospel 
incident.  It  was  to  reveal  himself  step  by  step 
to  the  inmost  consciousness  of  the  man  born 
blind,  and  to  bring  him  through  the  travail  of  a 
new  birth  into  the  world  of  spiritual  reality.  His 
method,  therefore,  was  consonant.  He  met  the 
man's  imagination,  his  awakening  hope,  more  than 
halfway,  by  doing  the  thing  the  man  might  have 
expected.  Then  suddenly  he  challenged  the  cit- 
adel of  the  human  will  and  said,  "Go,  wash!" 

The  Master  could  have  opened  the  sightless 
eyes  as  he  raised  the  dead  by  a  spoken  word.  He 
may  at  times  so  deal  with  me,  but  his  method  is 
in  his  own  keeping.  I  would  make  my  obedience 
to  any  word  of  his  so  swift  and  so  joyous  that, 
no  matter  how  humble  or  distasteful  may  be  his 
method,  I  may  discern  his  motive  and  be  healed 
of  every  hurt. 

€>pen  mp  tpea  to  tfjc  ligbt  of  tfjp  tountcnantc, 
«!D  (giob  of  mp  valuation,  anb  31  toiU  praise  tljcc 
altoapsl 


JUNE    TWENTY-ONE 


3rot)n  9:  7.    Hn  fauent  atoap  tljerefoce,  anb 
b)a£ii)cli,  auti  came  £fceing. 

TfE  went"  and  he  "came,"  but  between 
those  two  mileposts  in  his  hfe  stu- 
pendous   events    took    place.     "There- 

^  fore"  stands  between  his  going  and  his 
coming.  "Therefore"  means  the  power  of  the 
Son  of  God  and  the  bhnd  man's  acceptance  of 
the  command  of  Jesus.  He  "washed"  is  also 
written  between  the  record  of  his  departure  and 
his  arrival.  He  washed  where  he  was  told.  He 
did  not  need  to  be  told  when  or  how.  What  a 
wonderful  washing  of  water  that  was,  to  carry 
away  with  it  the  blindness  of  infancy,  childhood, 
youth  and  manhood.  His  cure  was  complete. 
He  came  "seeing." 


4!^ 

What  a  wonderful  difference  it  may  make  to 
me  this  summer  day,  when  nature  is  ablaze  with 
blossom  and  when  the  God  of  glory  seeks  to  give 
me  spiritual  sight,  if  I  will  only  put  an  implicit 
obedience  to  his  will  between  my  going  forth  into 
the  toil  of  Hfe's  day  and  my  coming  out  at  the 
close  of  day.  May  life  have  some  pool  of  Siloam 
with  its  healing  waters  for  any  blindness  of  my 
soul  to-day. 

jWap  3  obcp  t!)ce,  ^  Cljrtst,  as  implititlp  as 
bib  tf)c  suffering  man  of  olb.  QTfjen  toilt  tftou 
bless  me  as  abunbantlp  as  tijou  bibst  bless 
ilimt 


JUNE    TWENTY-TWO 


3Iol)n  9:  8,  9.  tKlje  neigbbors^  therefore, 
anb  tftep  tftat  gato  !)>»"  aforetime,  tljat  fje  txias  a 
beggar,  Kaib,  Hlsf  not  tf)ifi  ijc  tftat  fiat  anb 
beggeb?  ©tljerg  gaib,  3ft  ii  \)z:  otfjerfi  gaib, 
iBto,  but  J)e  is  like  Jjim.    ?^e  gaib,  31  am  Ije. 

OME  thought  that  it  was  reality;  others 
that  it  was  only  resemblance;  others  were 
uncertain.  He  knew.  He  said,  "I  am 
he."  It  is  impossible  to  fathom  all  the 
triumph  of  his  tone.  He  was  not  merely  stating 
a  truth,  but  heralding  a  triumph.  He  might  be 
ignorant  of  a  thousand  things,  but  he  knew  him- 
self as  one  who  had  once  sat  as  a  blind  beggar  in 
the  streets  of  the  city  and  who  now  could  see. 
There  are  strange  but  authentic  cases  of  confused 
identity;  of  seemingly  double  personality;  but 
they  are  not  normal.  The  best  witness  to  one's 
identity  is  himself. 

As  I  write  these  words,  I  am  passing  through 
my  boyhood  home.  I  am  looking  back  upon  days 
of  blindness,  but  of  soul.  Is  there  any  doubt 
that  I  am  I?  However  great  the  change  it  is 
mine  to  testify,  "I  am  he."  Let  me  forget  what 
I  may  and  must,  but  let  me  never  fail  to  know 
myself  as  one  whom  Jesus  has  saved.  Grief 
and  care  and  the  passing  of  the  years  may  work 
changes  in  my  lot  in  hfe.  In  and  through  it  all, 
I  am  thine,  O  Lord! 

€>  &ot)\  jfcecp  mc  tonstaiTt  in  mp  ton&tioun- 
ms6  tfjat  3(  am  a  poor  dinner  isabeb  bp  tbp 
grate  in  Cljrifit! 


JUNE    TWENTY-THREE 


STotjn  0:  10,  U.  m;f)ep  saib  tfjcreforc  unto 
Ijim,  ?if?oto  tljcn  tacre  tJjinc  tyt^i  opencli?  J^e 
anstocreb,  CJjc  man  tftat  ig  calleb  f  egug  mabe 
dap,  anb  anointeb  mine  epcs,  anb  gaib  unto  mc. 
<^o  to  ^iloam,  anb  toaslj:  go  3  tocnt  atoap  anb 
toaBijeb,  anb  3  reccibeb  sisJjt. 

HE  did  not  go  far  in  his  recognition  of  Jesus, 
but  he  made  a  good  beginning.  "The 
man  that  is  called  Jesus."  It  is  not 
to  be  wondered  at  that  he  did  not  know 
and  say  more.  We  have  no  right  to  judge  him  in 
the  light  of  twenty  Christian  centuries.  It  would 
be  more  just  to  judge  him  in  the  light  of  a  lifelong 
bhndness.  The  man  had  several  evidences  that  it 
was  a  man  who  had  healed  him.  He  had  heard 
the  voice  of  the  man  and  had  felt  his  touch,  but, 
best  of  all,  he  had  obeyed  his  command  and  had 
come  "seeing." 

Let  me  begin  where  the  man  of  old  began 
"The  man  that  is  called  Jesus."  Do  I  know  him'? 
Has  he  talked  with  me?  Have  I  heard  the  sound 
of  his  voice  above  all  other  voices?  Have  I  felt 
the  humaneness  of  his  humanity  as  he  touched 
my  life?  If  he  is  not  bone  of  my  bone  and  flesh 
Off  my  flesh,  my  elder  Brother  and  my  Friend,  then 
he  IS  not  fit  to  be  my  Saviour.  Praise  God,  Jesus  is 
my  Brother  and  my  Friend! 

0  tf)ou  ^on  of  (gob  anb  ^on  of  illan,  tnfjo 
bost  toucf)  us  iujjcn  toe  cannot  sec!  <gtbe  mc 
tfje  conscious;  assurance  of  tfjp  fcUotosfjip  to=baj»! 


JUNE    TWENTY-FOUR 


3fot)n   9:    12.     Sinb    tftep   iaiij  unto   J)im, 
ifjcrc  is  fjc  ?   1K?c  fiattfj,  31  bnoto  not. 

ID  he  care?  Would  he,  hke  an  ingrate, 
wiUingly  have  permitted  the  man  called 
Jesus  to  pass  out  of  his  life?  We  can 
only  be  sure  that  Jesus  touched  him, 
healed  him  and  then  passed  by.  Again  the 
Master's  method  is  determined  by  his  motive. 
It  is  not  fair  to  judge  the  completed  pattern  by 
broken  strands.  Alas!  With  so  many  of  us  the 
pattern  seems  to  be  only  broken  strands.  Let 
us  not  faint,  for  in  due  season  we  shall  weave 
out  our  pattern  on  the  loom,  if  we  faint  not. 
To-day  it  may  be  true  that  Jesus  has  touched 
us  and  then  passed  by. 

The  prosperous  man  who  has  forgotten  his 
mother's  simple  faith,  her  earnest  prayers,  her 
consecrated  life,  has  lost  his  hold  upon  the  Saviour. 
He  cannot  locate  him  in  his  own  experience.  The 
boy  away  from  home  has  a  hard  tirhe  finding 
Jesus  in  the  midst  of  his  books  or  his  companion- 
ships. The  man  or  woman  who  has  moved  into 
a  new  social  environment  oflen  leaves  Jesus 
behind. 

If  I  have  left  Jesus  behind,  have  crowded  him 
out,  may  this  be  the  day  when  he  shall  return 
again  to  leave  me  never. 

Map  tnp  toitncBJS  of  tbec,  ©  Cfjrijft.  fac  clear 
anb  tonbinting!  Cntljrone  tftpscU  in  mp  in= 
most  bcart  ttjat  31  map  cntljronc  tijee  in  mp 
bailp  taialU  anb  conticcsation! 


JUNE  TWENTY-FIVE 


3Iof)n  9:  17.  ^fjep  gap  therefore  unto  tfjc 
faUnlJ  man  again,  Mfjat  fiapest  tijou  of  t)im,  in 
tf)at  f)c  opcncb  tJjinc  cpcs?  Sinb  Ijc  fiaiii,  Jf?c  is! 
a  propfjet. 


^HEY  were  sticklers  for  the  sabbath, 
but  they  did  not  recognize  the  Lord  of 
the  sabbath  when  he  drew  near.  They 
judged  him  a  sinner  ah-eady,  and  on 
several  counts.  He  had  made  clay  with  the 
spittle  —  that  was  one  kind  of  labor;  he  had 
applied  it  to  the  man's  eyes  —  that  was  still  an- 
other; he  had  sent  him  to  wash  —  that  was  a 
third;  he  had  healed  him  —  that  was  the  fourth 
and  the  most  grievous.  So,  on  every  account, 
Jesus  must  be  a  sinner.  The  man  who  had  been 
healed  arrived  at  a  different  conclusion.  He 
started  with  his  one-time  bhndness;  then  came 
Jesus;  then  followed  sight.  "He  is  a  prophet," 
was  his  testimony. 

To-day  I  may  come  into  casual,  or,  it  may  be, 
intimate  contact  with  those  who  falsely  judge 
my  Lord  because  they  do  not  know  him.  Shall 
I  be  a  coward  and  let  fear  seal  my  lips,  when  Jesus' 
name  and  honor  are  at  stake?  I  cannot  say  less 
than  that  he  is  a  divine  prophet,  speaking  God's 
truth  to  me.  If  I  have  the  growing  faith  of  that 
man  of  old  I  will  say  more,  for  Jesus  will  become 
not  only  my  Prophet  but  my  Priest  and  my  King. 

€>  tljou  ainointeb  of  (Sob!    "Rctical  fjifi  trutfj 
to  mc  to=bap,  tijat  31  map  libc  in  its  ligfjt! 


JUNE  TWENTY-SIX 


fotn  9:  22,  23.  tKJjosc  tfjings  saib  fjts 
parents,  faetausc  tjjep  feaccb  ttje  Jctos:  for 
tl)e  SfctDB!  bail  agreeb  alrcabp,  tfjat  if  anp  man 
gljoulb  tonfc£(fi  ttnt  to  be  Christ,  fte  sljoulb  be 
put  out  of  ttc  £(pnagogue.  Vtiitvelovt  gaib  f)i^ 
parents!,  ^e  is  of  age;  asU  tjim. 

7HESE  things"  were  their  cowardly 
evasion  of  the  truth  they  must  have 
known.  We  must  not  blame  them, 
however,  without  understanding  them. 
To  be  put  out  of  the  synagogue  meant  almost 
everything  that  was  dreadful.  Jesus  had  not 
touched  them  and  healed  them.  To  be  put  out  of 
the  synagogue  without  having  found  Jesus  would 
have  been  to  no  profit.  So  they  evaded.  After 
all,  they  were  nearer  the  truth  than  they  had  a 
right  to  be.  They  could  not  speak  for  their  son. 
He  had  to  speak  for  himself. 

By  a  coincidence  this  is  the  birthday  of  him  who 
pens  these  lines.  There  are  relationships  which 
may  some  day,  this  day,  put  me  in  the  plight  of 
the  troubled  parents.  How  will  I  measure  up? 
Will  the  honors  of  the  synagogue  and  the  claims 
of  custom  hold  me  fast,  and  the  "fear  of  the  Jews" 
strike  me  dumb?  I  must  have  a  conscious  experi- 
ence of  Christ  within  my  heart;  then  let  come 
what  may  from  men,  misunderstanding,  opposi- 
tion, threatenings,  judgments,  it  will  still  be  well 
with  me. 

41^ 


(D  tbou  ti]i)o  i)a6t  croluncb  mv  life  hiitlj 
tl)p  goobncjfg!  JHafae  tfje  coming  pears  more 
afaunbant  in  lobing  serbice! 


JUNE  TWENTY-SEVEN 

3Soi)n  9:  24.  ^o  tbep  calleb  a  sfcconb  time 
tftc  man  tJjat  toas  hlint,  anb  fiaib  unto  fjim,  (Sibc 
glorp  to  <@ob:  toe  knoto  tt)at  ti)t6  man  t£(  a 
sinner. 

^^'HEY  were  giving  him  a  criminal's  third 
degree.  The  weapon  of  their  attack 
is  famihar  to  those  who  know  anything 
of  inquisitorial  methods.  They  unex- 
pectedly announced  a  fact  which,  if  true,  would 
have  great  influence  upon  their  victim.  It  was 
as  if  they  had  said:  "Praise  God.  This  man  Jesus 
has  confessed  that  he  is  a  fraud.  He  duped  you 
and  has  turned  state's  evidence.  What  have  you 
to  say?"  The  ghb  critic  of  the  faith  announces 
his  discovery  of  mistakes  that  Jesus  made  and 
thrusts  his  challenge  into  our  face,  "What  do  you 
have  to  say  now?"  The  cautious  critic  of  the 
Gospel  record  damns  the  Master  with  faint  praise 
and  tells  us  that  we  have  a  few  historic  fragments 
upon  which  we  may  put  more  or  less  reliance,  and 
then  with  seeming  concern  says,  "After  all,  what 
do  we  really  know  about  Jesus?"  The  sneering 
cynic  of  the  street  hurls  his  ribald  accusations 
against  the  birth  and  life  of  Jesus  and  asks  us, 
"What  are  you  going  to  do  about  it?" 

I,  too,  will  have  my  say.  I  will  give  glory  to 
God,  for  I  know  that  I  am  a  sinner  and  that  the 
sinless  Jesus  has  saved  me! 

-^ 
3f  fap  anp  of  tfjcsc  foes  of  tfje  faitf)  or  bp  anp 
otijers,  3  sboulb  be  testeb  to=bap,  ©  <&ob,  grant 
ti)at  mp  faiti)  6\iall  not  falter! 


JUNE  TWENTY-EIGHT 


^FoJjn  9:  25.  li^t  tfjcteforc  anstaereb. 
12lf)ettcr  fte  is  a  sinner,  2)  bnoto  not:  one 
tl)ing  3  bnotu,  tijat,  txtfjeceas  21  tuas  blinti,  noto 
3  see. 


"^HIS  man  is  one  of  the  "one  thing"  men 
of  the  Bible.  The  psalmist  desired  one 
thing;  the  apostle  did  one  thing;  this  man 
knew  one  thing.  On  every  established 
principle  of  evidence  the  man  was  the  best  witness 
on  earth.  The  testimony  of  others,  circumstan- 
tial and  not  to  be  despised,  was  like  the  finishing 
touches  upon  the  building.  The  man's  own 
witness  was  its  foundation  and  its  superstructure. 
He  did  not  need  to  say,  "I  think,"  "I  beheve," 
but,  "  I  know."  It  is  true  that  he  did  not  exhaust 
his  case  by  his  testimony.  His  evidence,  so  vital 
to  him,  fitted  into  the  larger  case  of  Jesus. 

Some  reader  of  these  words  may  be  celebrating 
to-day  the  anniversary  of  his  birlh.  What  bett'er 
motto  for  him  or  for  any  follower  of  Christ,  with 
which  to  enter  a  year  or  a  day  of  life  than  the 
simple,  direct  witness  of  the  man  of  old?  There 
may  be  many  things  which  will  not  be  clear  — 
perplexities,  difficulties,  griefs.  Let  my  years  be 
many  or  let  them  be  few,  Jesus  I  know,  and  .he 
is  on  his  throne! 

<^ibc  me,  €>  ILorb,  a  gatisfping  bision  of  tJjp 
sabing  fate,  boljicfj  to  icc  boitlj  lobing  faitfj  i& 
life  eternal! 


JUNE  TWENTY-NINE 


Woi)n  9:  29,  30.  Mc  fenotu  ti)at  (gob  fjatfj 
KpoUcn  unto  Jflosies:  but  as  for  tfjis  man,  toe 
fenoto  not  tofjence  ijc  is.  ®j)c  man  amstocrcb 
anb  fiaib  unto  ttem,  511I)p,  Jjercin  is  tfjc  marbcl, 
tijat  pc  bnoto  not  tofjcncc  Ijc  is,  anb  pet  i)t 
openeb  mine  epcs. 


"^^HE  man  was  speaking  with  the  frankness 
of  an  unspoiled  child.  His  own  expe- 
rience of  the  saving  power  of  the  man 
■^  "called  Jesus"  loomed  up  so  large  before 
him  that  he  could  not  understand  their  unbehef 
in  him.  It  was  a  marvel  to  him,  that  in  the  face 
of  his  opened  eyes  their  eyes  could  be  blind.  He 
had  that  unreasoning  eagerness  of  faith  which,  by 
a  single  motion  of  the  soul,  goes  to  the  goal  like 
a  winged  arrow. 

-$^ 
It  makes  all  the  difference  in  the  world  where 
we  start  in  estimating  Jesus.  Where  we  begin 
will  determine  where  we  end.  If  we  begin  our 
appraisal  of  his  character  and  work  at  the  point 
of  a  living  experience. of  his  presence  and  power, 
we  shall  have  scant  difficulty  with  abstract 
questions  concerning  his  origin.  If,  on  the  other 
hand,  we  approach  him  with  no  consciousness  of 
personal  relationship,  we  are  apt  to  spend  all  our 
time  in  the  outer  court  of  casuistry  and  profitless 
speculation.  The  issue  is,  are  we  competent  to 
testify  concerning  Christ  until  we  have  had  ex- 
perience of  him  within  our  own  souls? 

•«^ 
0  Cfjristl    Mv  fjcatt  is  inclincb  unto  tfjee 
because  tftou  fjast  bone  great  ttjings   for  me. 
Heep  me  eber  close  to  tljee! 


JUNE  THIRTY 


3Fol)n  9:  34.  ®f)EP  anstoereb  anb  Saib  unto 
i)tm,  tZi:^t)ou  boast  altogetijet  born  in  ixni,  anb 
bofit  t|)ou  tcatl)  us?   Slnb  ttej»  cast  1)""  out. 

-^ 

'HE  end  of  their  argument  was  violence. 

When  prejudice  is  worsted  in  the  contest 

with   truth,   it   usually   resorts   to   force. 

They   could   not   successfully   contradict 


the  man  who  had  been  healed,  nor  could  they  con- 
travene his  testimony,  so  they  "cast  him  out." 
The  man  was  hounded  from  morning  till  night. 
Children  mocked  him  on  the  streets.  Since  he 
had  never  earned  a  living  by  industry  but  had  been 
reduced  to  a  beggar,  he  found  every  avenue  of 
support  barricaded  by  the  edict  of  the  rulers, 
"  Cast  him  out ! "  Was  it  worth  it  all?  What  did 
the  man  gain  to  compensate  him  for  his  loss?  He 
gained  Jesus.  That  is  the  sum  and  substance  of 
it  all:  yet  in  that  gain  the  poor  beggar  became  a 
multi-millionaire. 

It  is  possible  still  to  be  cast  out  for  Jesus'  sake. 
There  are  refined  cruelties  and  subtle  indignities 
heaped  upon  many  of  his  followers.  Social 
ostracism  is  not  infrequently  the  portion  of  one 
who  continues  to  testify  what  Jesus  has  done.  If 
such  be  the  lot  which  befalls  me,  let  me  learn  that 
no  one  on  earth  can  harm  me  but  myself:  that  to 
be  cast  out  for  Jesus'  sake,  may  bring  my  soul's 

highest  good. 

•«^ 
0  ti)ou  tai)o  boast  cast  out  for  mj>  safael  l^elp 
mc  to  bear  eberp  cross  of  sfjame  tftat  tfjou  bost 
asb  mc  to  carrp,  in  orbcr  tJjat  31  map  be  toell- 
pleasing  unto  tijce! 


JULY    ONE 


JJ 


foljn  9:  35-38.  3ti\xi  fjearb  tJjat  tfjep 
f)ab  cast  i)im  out;  anb  finbing  Jjim,  ftc  jfaib, 
JBost  tl)ou  facUcbe  on  tf)c  ^on  of  <©ob?  |^e 
anstocreb  anb  saib,  Sinb  tof)o  is  te,  Horb,  ttat 
3  map  bcliebc  on  tint?  STegus  fiaib  unto  tint, 
©tou  tast  faott  seen  tint,  anb  tc  it  iJ*  ttat 
Spcabctt  toitt  ttee.  Sinb  \)t  saib,  Horb,  31  be- 
liebe.  !9nb  te  toocgtippcb  tint. 
•^- 

ESUS  admitted  his  concern.  He  had  healed 
the  man;  the  scribes  and  Pharisees  had  cast 
him  out;  now  Jesus  must  seek  and  find  and 
bless  him  with  a  boon  that  men  could  neither 
give  nor  take  away.  He  probed  deep  into  the 
heart  that  had  been  hurt  and  said,  "Dost  thou 
beheve  on  the  Son  of  God?"  and  then  rose  up  in 
his  divine  image  before  the  eyes  that  he  had 
opened  and  said,  "I  am  he."  "And  he  wor- 
shipped him."  This  was  the  supreme  measure  of 
his  faith. 

-^^ 
To-day  I  am  being  tested  by  this  divisive  chal- 
lenge —  "Dost  thou  believe  on  the  Son  of  God?" 
"The  man  .  .  .  called  Jesus"  is  not  enough;  "the 
prophet"  is  not  final.  "The  Son  of  God"  alone  is 
ultimate.  In  the  face  of  the  subtle  influences  of 
the  day  which  react  upon  the  faith  that  is  in  Jesus, 
there  is  one  outstanding,  open  affirmation  of  the 
soul,  which  will  resolve  doubt.  It  is  the  solvent 
of  adoring  trust.  I  will  bend  the  knee  to-day  and 
confess  that  Jesus  Christ  is  Lord,  my  Saviour  and 
my  God. 

0  ttou  tntom  all  ttc  angels  of  (^ob  abore! 
3.  too,  toorstip  ttcc  hv  faitt! 


JULY  TWO 


STofjn  9:   39-41.     Snb  5e£(ug    fiaib.   Jfor 
jubsmcnt  tame  3f  into  tbis  toorlb.  ttjat  ttjcp  tljat 
gee  not  map  siec;  anb  tJjat  tljep  ttjat  see  map  be- 
come blinb.     ®l)0£ic  of  ttc  |3i)arisces  toljo  tocrc 
b3itlj  bim  f)carb  tfjege  tfjings,  anb  saib  unto  Ijim, 
are  toe  also  faUnb?    SFcsus  saib  unto  tfiem, 
3If  pe  toere  falinb,  pe  tooulb  fjabc  no  gin:  but 
noto  pe  gap,  Wit  gee:  pour  gin  remainctfj. 
'¥^ 
IGHT    brings    judgment.      Its    mission    is 
to  reveal.     In  the  last  resort,  disclosure  is 
judgment.     The  heart  is  judged  when  its 


O/ 


secrets  are  laid  bare.  Jesus,  who  came  to 
lighten  bhnd  eyes,  came  also  to  bring  judgment. 
Sunlight,  which  is  the  hope  of  those  who  desire 
to  walk,  to  work,  to  achieve,  is  the  despair  of  those 
who  seek  to  despoil,  to  maraud  and  to  destroy. 
There  is  no  bhndness  in  all  the  world  Hke  that 
which  shuts  its  eyes  to  the  shining  light.  The 
love  of  God  revealed  in  Jesus  Christ  is  like  a 
summer  sun  in  the  zenith  of  the  heavens;  men 
are  blind  because  they  go  into  the  caves  of  doubt 
and  unbelief,  and  light  the  flickering  candle  of 
human  wisdom  and  try  to  live  by  its  uncertain 
light. 

Am  I  blind  also?  The  blessings  of  a  Christian 
civilization,  its  peace  and  prosperity,  its  brotherly 
love  and  its  liberty,  are  no  guarantee  of  spiritual 
sight  to  me;  unless  my  eyes  have  been  opened  by 
him  who  made  these  blessings  possible. 

-$!$► 

"^igfjt,  ridjeg,  fjealing  of  tfje  minb, 
^ca,  all  3  nceb,  in  Cljce  to  finb, 
©  ICamfa  of  <&ob,  31  come." 


JULY  THREE 


SToljn  10:  I,  2.  "VtxiXv,  berilp,  3  cap  imto 
pou,  ii}t  ttat  entcrctlj  not  bp  tlje  Ijoor  into  tfte 
foil)  of  tt)c  gfjcep,  but  tlimbctfj  up  some  otJjec 
boap,  tf)c  same  is  a  tfjief  anli  a  robber.  J3ut 
fjc  tfjat  enterctlj  in  bp  tJjc  boor  is  tfjc  sljcpljcrb  of 
tf)e  sfjccp. 

•;«► 

'HE  door  distinguishes  the  shepherd  of  the 
sheep  from  the  thief  and  the  robber.  It 
does  not  change  the  essential  character 
of    either;     it    only    discloses    it.     The 


shepherd  passes  through  the  door  safely,  peace- 
fully, properly;  by  that  token  he  is  the  shepherd. 
The  thief  passes  by  the  door  and  cHmbs  up  some 
other  way;  that  brands  him  unmistakably  with 
the  intent  to  destroy.  The  shepherd  would  not 
climb  "up  some  other  way"  because  he  would  not 
need  to  do  so.  The  thief  would  not  enter  through 
the  door  because  he  would  not  dare  to  do  so. 
The  Master  likened  himself  to  many  things,  in 
his  public  discourses.  In  this  connection  he  made 
himself  the  door  through  which  all  others  must 
come  to  the  sheep. 

Jesus  is  the  Good  Shepherd.  He  is  also  the 
Door  of  the  sheepfold.  If  in  any  humble  way  I 
have  been  called  to  be  an  under  shepherd  of  the 
flock,  I  would  seek  to  enter  the  fold  by  the  divinely 
appointed  door.  If  I  knock  with  the  hand  of 
faith,  the  door  will  open  and  I  may  enter  into  the 
sheepfold,  without  challenge  or  fear. 

0  tljou  open  ©oor  of  tfje  sfjeep!  21  tooulb 
enter  tfje  folb  in  no  otljer  iuap  ttjan  ttjrougft 
ttjee! 


JULY  FOUR 


2Ioi)n  10:  3.  ®o  bint  tfjc  porter  openetfj; 
ant)  ti)e  sctjecp  fi^i^r  l)i£i  botce:  anb  !je  calletf)  tis' 
oton  sjjcep  l)j>  name,  anb  Icabetf)  tftcm  out. 

'HERE  are  four  things  that  come  to  pass 
at  once  when  the  Good  Shepherd  stands 
at  the  door  of  the  fold.  First:  "the 
porter  openeth"  —  that  is  unquestioned 


access  to  his  sheep.  Second:  "the  sheep  hear  his 
voice"  —  that  is  unmistakable  recognition  by 
his  sheep.  Third:  "he  calleth  his  own  sheep  by 
name"  —  that  is  unfailing  recognition  of  his 
sheep.  Fourth:  he  "leadeth  them  out"  —  that 
is  unchallenged  control  of  his  sheep. 

He  alone  has  indisputable  access  to  his  fold 
for  it  belongs  to  him  alone.  The  Lord's  own  also 
hear  the  Lord's  voice.  Just  as  a  wearying  child 
can  detect  the  mother's  gentle,  soothing  voice 
in  the  midst  of  a  babel  of  tumult,  so  can  the  Lord's 
own  hear  his  voice  though  a  thousand  other  voices 
call  and  entreat.  The  Master  also  calls  his  own 
by  their  own  names.  A  shepherd  who  did  not 
know  his  sheep  would  be  stupid.  A  Saviour  who 
did  not  know  his  saved  ones  would  be  worse.  The 
Master  also  leads  out  his  own.  He  does  not  ask 
a  single  child  to  go  where  he  has  not  gone.  The 
vale  of  tears?  "Jesus  wept."  Burdens  and  toil? 
"Jesus  .  .  .  being  wearied  .  .  .  sat  thus  by  the 
well."    Suffering  and  distress?    Glorified  with  him ! 

-^^ 
0  (Sob!    JSIcsg  our  natibc  lanb  tfjis;  fcsttal 

bap!   iWap  Ijer  titijcns  all  be  catljereb  in  tljc 

one  true  folb  tljrouglj  3Iesus  CfjristI 


JULY  FIVE 


lofjn  10:  4,  5.  OTifjen  Jjc  ftati)  put  forti)  all 
Ijis  otan,  Ije  goctf)  before  tftcm,  antj  tftc  fiftccp 
foUota)  tint:  for  ti)ep  hnobo  tisi  botce.  ^nb  a 
stranger  biill  tfjep  not  foUobi,  but  totll  flee 
from  fjint:  for  tfjcp  knob)  not  tijc  boice  of 
strangers. 


^HE  voice  of  Jesus  rises  above  the  tumult 
and  across  the  chasm  of  the  centuries.  It 
can  be  heard  by  his  farthest-away  sheep. 
Time  and  space  do  not  touch  the  volume 
of  his  voice.  Sex,  age,  color,  race,  none  of  these 
things  mar  its  identity.  What  an  irreparable  loss 
that  there  was  no  phonograph  in  Jesus'  day  to 
record  and  reproduce  the  voice  of  Jesus!  What 
if  the  patriots  of  1776  could  speak  to  us  to-day! 
Jesus  does  speajv  and  his  voice  is  heard  by  every 
listening  ear,  attuned  to  his  Spirit.  Every  faithful 
child  has  heard  it.  It  echoes  in  all  the  variations 
of  human  moods  and  temperaments.  We  have 
followed  it  when,  sometimes  blinded  by  our  tears, 
we  could  only  hear  and  not  see.  After  all,  if  it 
had  not  been  the  voice  of  Jesus,  we  would  not  have 
followed  it. 

-die- 
There  are  a  myriad  voices  that  are  calling  me 
to-day.  They  are  the  voices  of  strangers.  I 
would  not  heed  them.  Rather  let  me  hear  and 
heed  the  voice  of  Jesus,  my  Shepherd  and  my 
Friend,  and  follow  him. 

©  iWaster!  ILet  me  fjear  tfjp  tenber,  famil- 
iar boice  abobe  tbe  babel  of  ti)e  boorlbt  Heat- 
ing it,  let  me  also  ijeeD  it! 


JULY  SIX 


STofjn  10:  9.  3ram  tf)e  boor;  bp  me  if  anp 
man  enter  in,  t}t  sdjall  be  sfabeb,  anb  stjall  q.o 
in  anb  go  out,  anb  siljaU  finb  pasture. 

^HE  door  opens  both  ways,  but  it  opens 
in  before  it  opens  out.  We  must  enter 
the  sheepfold  through  the  door  in  order 
to  be  saved.  When  once  we  have  entered 
we  may  go  in  and  go  out,  and  find  pasture.  Why 
must  we  go  in  first?  For  the  reason  that  there 
are  marks  of  ownership  that  must  be  put  upon  us; 
there  are  companies  into  which  we  must  be  gath- 
ered; there  are  pastures  that  must  be  appointed. 
The  door,  which  is  the  symbol  of  Christ,  is  the  sign 
of  access  unto  Christ  and  of  freedom  in  Christ, 
and  of  bounty  from  Christ.  The  child  who  will 
not  come  in  has  neither  liberty  nor  bounty. 
Fears  and  forebodings,  hunger,  weariness  and 
thirst,  are  all  he  has. 

A  babe  may  swing  open  the  balanced  door  of 
a  massive  modern  vault.  What  a  blessing  to 
know  that  the  divine  human  door  needs  not  to 
be  beaten  down  or  pushed  ajar.  The  faintest 
pressure  of  the  finger  of  faith  will  swing  wide 
open  the  portal  of  the  fold.  It  may  seem  to  be 
shut  to  us  when  we  are  far  away,  but  when  we 
draw  nearer  and  finally  stand  before  it,  the  door 
of  the  fold  will  open  wide  and  bid  us  enter. 

€>pen  unto  me  to=bap,  tfjou  bibine  IDoor,  anb 
gibe  me  abunbant  access  to  tfje  folb  of  <&ob 
anb  to  tljc  fjcabenlp  pastures! 


JULY  SEVEN 


STofjn  10:  10.  ^fje  tfjief  comctlj  not.  but 
tijat  j)c  map  steal,  anb  feill,  anb  bestrop:  31  came 
tijat  tfjcp  map  fjabc  life,  anb  map  iia\it  it  al)un= 
bantlp. 

'7  T7ERE  is  a  case  where  the  positive  state- 
L__J  ment  is  more  emphatic  than  the  com- 
r  1  parative.  The  King  James  Version  says 
"more  abundantly,"  the  Revised  Version 
"abundantly."  The  latter  is  textually  prefer- 
able and  actually  stronger.  The  man  just  emer- 
ging from  the  jaws  of  death  may  have  hfe  "more 
abundantly"  each  day.  It  takes  a  robust  and  well 
man  to  have  hfe  abundantly.  There  can  be 
nothing  that  is  essential  to  life  that  is  not  included 
in  the  abundant  life.  Peace?  There  is  no  peace 
like  that  of  the  life  abundant.  Its  source,  its 
secret,  its  charm,  its  continuity,  are  all  heavenly. 
Joy?  Only  the  man  who  lives  the  life  abundant 
knows  how  deep  is  the  well  of  joy.  His  cup  may 
sparkle  but  not  with  shallow  effervescence.  The 
joy  of  the  abundant  life  is  alone  genuine.  Love? 
There  is  no  long-lasting  love  possible  that  does 
not  grow  in  the  soil  of  the  life  abundant. 

Do  I  have  it?  Do  I  desire  it?  There  is  but 
ojie  way  to  get  it.  It  is  the  gift  of  the  Lord  and 
Saviour  who  came  that  I  might  have  it.  He  stands 
waiting  to  give  what  I  so  much  need  to  have. 
Why  should  I  permit  him  to  stand  longer? 

€>  <fi5it)cr  of  tf)c  aftunbant  life!  0la\it  me  its: 
possesfBOC  to=bap,  accorbing  to  tbp  fjolp  purpose! 
iflap  3f  libc  for  tijce  tnOo  Ijast  tiieii  for  me! 


JULY  EIGHT 


3fol)n  10:  11.     3  am  tbe  500I1  gfjepfjerb:  tJjc 
goob  gfjepljerb  lapctf)  iioban  bis  life  for  tlje  gfjccp. 

T7       YTE  must  love  the  sheep  or  he  would  not  do 

L___J     it.     His    life    would    be    the    very    last 

[       1     thing  to  lay  down,  even  for  his  sheep. 

Who    would    then    be    their    Shepherd? 

Who  would  lead  them  into  the  green  pastures 

and  beside  the  still  waters?     The  Master  must 

have  had  in  mind  the  piercing  apostrophe  of  the 

prophet  Zechariah,  "Awake,  0  sword,  against  my 

shepherd,  and  against  the  man  that  is  my  fellow, 

saith  Jehovah  of  hosts:    smite  the  shepherd,  and 

the  sheep  shall  be  scattered;   and  I  will  turn  my 

hand  upon  the  little  ones." 

The  Good  Shepherd  did  not  merely  say  it  —  he 
did  it.  He  bared  his  breast  to  the  stroke  of  the 
sword.  He  laid  down  his  life  for  his  sheep.  It  is 
hard  for  me  since  I  am  the  weakest  of  his  children 
and,  it  may  be,  the  most  stupid  of  his  sheep,  to 
know  why  he  should  have  loved  me  so,  yet  I  bear 
upon  my  body  his  sacred  mark;  I  carry  his  divine 
image  in  my  heart.  He  sought  me  and  found  me 
when  "  I  was  a  wandering  sheep,"  "  did  not  love  the 
fold."  He  is  the  Good  Shepherd  forever  and  for- 
ever. May  I  be  known  truly  as  his  faithful  sheep, 
and  follow  him  this  day  in  the  paths  of  righteous- 
ness, for  his  name's  sake. 


0  tbou  tDf)o  art  t"P  gljcpbcrb!  31  praise 
tf)ce  for  tf)?  lobe  in  tfjc  laping  botun  of  tijp  life 
for  one  poor  gljecp  —  cljcn  me! 


JULY  NINE 


IToljn  10:  12,  13.  ^t  tfjat  ii  a  fjircling, 
antj  not  a  stepi)ctb,  totoge  oton  tftc  sfjccp  are 
not,  bcljolbctf)  tftc  toolf  coming,  anb  leabetJ)  tljc 
gljecp.  antJ  flectt),  anb  tfjc  toolf  snatcbetft  ttjcm, 
ant)  sfcattctetf)  ti)cm:  i)c  fleett)  because  te  t£f  a 
tjireling,  anb  carctf)  not  for  tlje  fif)Ecp. 

"^^HE  poor  sheep  has  a  hard  time  between 
the  hireUng  and  the  wolf.  It  is  wolf 
nature  to  snatch  and  scatter  the  sheep. 
It  is  hireling  nature  to  run  and  leave  the 


sheep.  The  wolf  may  be  afraid  of  the  shepherd 
but  he  is  not  afraid  of  the  hireling;  the  hireling 
is  afraid  of  the  wolf.  The  character  of  the  hire- 
ling is  disclosed  in  his  name.  He  is  the  child,  or 
creature,  of  hire. 

There  are  wolves  who  prey  upon  the  flock  of 
God.  Some  of  them  are  in  sheep's  clothing  and 
some  are  bold  enough  to  appear  without  disguise. 
No  hireling  will  save  me.  No  succor  that  is  bought 
for  a  price,  no  righteousness  that  is  paid  for  by 
penance,  no  strength  that  is  gained  by  a  com- 
promise, will  avail  me.  Sycophants  will  bend  the 
knee  to  me  in  my  prosperity  and  stab  me  in  the 
back  in  the  dark  hour  of  adversity.  Only  the  Good 
Shepherd  is  faithful.  It  will  be  well  for  my  soul 
in  the  hour  when  the  ravening  wolf  cometh  if  my 
trust  is  in  the  Shepherd  alone,  for  he  alone  will 
save  me,  and  he  will  save  me  for  his  name's  sake. 

Jfrom  cbcrptljing  tfjat  gecfas  to  bcstrop, 
gabc  me.  ©  S'tcpbcrb  of  tfjp  sf)cepl  jFor  tljj» 
loljc'ss  fiabe! 


JULY    TEN 


STofrn  10:  14.  15.  31  am  tf)c  goob  sf)cpf)ert; 
anil  2f  fenoto  mine  oton.  anb  mine  oton  fenoto  me, 
cben  as  tfjc  Jfatfter  fenotoetl)  me,  anb  3  bnohi 
tf)c  Jfatbct;  anil  3  lap  bo  ton  mp  life  for  tfte 
steep. 


T7 


ESUS'  consciousness  of  God  regulated  his 
relation  to  his  disciples.  It  is  transparently 
simple  to  see  what  Jesus  intended  his  relation 
J/  to  his  followers  to  be  —  just  like  that  which 
bound  him  and  the  Father  together.  It  is  su- 
premely difficult  to  measure  up  to  his  purposes 
for  us  because  it  is  so  impossiljle  to  fathom  the 
fullness  of  his  oneness  with  the  Father. 

What  a  heavenly  life  on  earth  would  be  mine  if 
I  knew  Jesus  as  his  Father  knew  him!  Would  I 
give  less  than  first  place  to  him  of  whom  it  is  said 
that  "it  was  the  good  pleasure  of  the  Father 
that  in  him  should  all  the  fulness  dwell"?  On 
the  other  hand  what  a  clarifying  of  the  air  of  faith 
would  come  if  I  would  know  the  Father  as  Jesus 
knows  him,  the  All-righteous,  the  All-loving,  the 
All-merciful.  There  is  one  great  ray  of  light. 
If  my  knowledge  of  him  is  not  perfect,  as  it  is 
his  purpose  that  it  should  be,  the  difference  is 
not  in  kind  but  in  degree.  If  I  am  his  sheep,  his 
child,  I  am  known  of  him  surely,  and  he  is  known 
by  me  truly.     I  would  know  him  better  to-day.' 

-^ 
0  Cljrist!   iWap  3  fenoto  tbee  t\)ii  bap  cben 
as  t|)ou  art  bnoton  of  tfte  Jfatfjcr,  as  Ujc  toeU= 
belobcb  ^on,  Uje  aaebeemcr  of  tJjc  tootlb! 


JULY  ELEVEN 


SToIjn  10:  16.  Slnb  otfjer  gfteep  3  Ijabe, 
toljicl)  arc  not  of  tfjig  folb:  tt)cm  also  3  must 
bring,  anb  ti)cp  sJjall  Ijcar  mp  boicc;  anb  tljcp 
siftall  become  one  flocb,  one  gfjepljerb. 

'HIS  one  statement  even  if  it  were  alone 
would  put  universality  into  the  gospel 
of  Jesus.  It  is  a  conclusive  argument  for 
expansive  Christianity.     It  is  the  Lord's 


own  brief  for  world-wide  evangelization — "Other 
sheep  .  .  .  not  of  this  fold!"  There  were  those  in 
Jesus'  day  who  thought  that  the  Lord  had  all  he 
could  do  to  take  care  of  their  little  flock.  How 
fearfully  they  misjudged  his  plan  and  caricatured 
his  shepherdship!  All  they  could  see  was  the 
petty  confines  of  their  narrow  fold,  while  Jesus 
himself  was  looking  down  the  valleys  of  time  and 
up  on  the  hillsides  of  eternity,  and  beholding  a 
vast  multitude  of  sheep  without  a  shepherd, 
waiting  to  be  led.     He  would  sound  his  voice  across 

the  centuries.     They  would  hear  it  and  heed  him. 

^^ 
He  is  still  seeking  his  other  sheep.  His  com- 
passionate voice  is  heard  in  Asia  and  Africa  and 
in  the  islands  of  the  sea.  Who  are  the  arrogant 
men,  mere  sheep  themselves,  or  wolves  in  sheep's 
clothing,  who  build  ecclesiastical  walls  about  a 
favored  few  and  call  themselves  the  one  true 
flock  of  God?  Is  the  sheepfold  full?  Not  so  long 
as  one  poor  straying  sheep  is  still  lost!  There  are 
yet  "other  sheep."  May  I  help  him  to  find  them 
this   day! 

jMap  tljp  sfeebinB  lobe  for  tfje  "  otljer  sbeep  "  fill 
mp  Ijeart  anb  life  to=bap,  tijou  bibine  ^Ijepfjcrb! 


JULY  TWELVE 


Sofjn  10:  17-19.  ^fjercfore  botl)  tfje 
jFatftct  lobe  me,  because  3  lap  tjoton  mp  life, 
tjjat  3  map  take  it  again,  ^o  one  tabctfj  it 
atoap  from  me,  but  3  lap  it  ijoton  of  mpself. 
3  babe  potoec  to  lap  it  boton,  anb  3  babe  pobier 
to  take  it  again.  Wiii  commanbment  re= 
ceibeb  3  from  mp  Jfatljer.  ©bcre  axtiit  a 
bibision  again  among  tbe  EFetog  because  of 
tbese  boorbg. 


7 HE  Master  was  not  a  mere  martyr.  Yet 
the  martyrs  caught  something  of  his 
spirit.  They  became  sure  that  they  were 
immortal  until  their  work  on  earth  was 
done.  The  motive  of  their  martyrdom  was  to  be 
well-pleasing  unto  him.  He,  too,  faced  death 
with  courage  but  with  more  than  courage.  The 
glory  of  his  cross  was  its  eternal  voluntariness. 
What  he  chose  in  the  counsels  of  the  ages,  before 
time  was,  he  fulfilled  "  in  the  days  of  his  flesh." 
No  man  took  his  life  from  him.  The  executioner 
who  came  to  break  his  bones,  the  soldier  who 
pierced  his  side,  found  his  lifeless  body  delivered 
from  its  burden  of  distress.  He  laid  down  his 
Ufe  upon  the  altar  of  the  world's  need. 

My  joy  to-day  is  that  he  has  taken  up  his  life 
again  and  that  he  sitteth  at  the  right  hand  of  God. 
What  a  holy  privilege  is  mine  this  day  to  give  a 
tabernacle  of  flesh  to  him  whom  death  could  not 
hold,  the  living  Son  of  God! 

-^ 
Jf  inb  (bjitfjin  mp  Ijtart  to=bap,  0  Cljrist,  a 
place  mabe  fit  for  tt)ce!    ^afac  up  in  me  ttje  life 
tbou  bibst  lap  boton  for  mel 


JULY  THIRTEEN 


STofjn  10:  24.  tCfjc  ITetog  therefore  came 
rounb  about  tim,  anb  jsaiD  unto  Ijim,  3^oto  long 
bost  t{)ou  tolb  U£f  in  eusfpcns^c?  Df  ti)ou  art 
tlje  Cljrist,  tell  us  plainlp. 

T  is  no  sin  to  ask  to  be  told  plainly.  They 
were  not  at  fault  for  asking  for  more  light, 
but  for  being  blind  to  the  light  that  they  had 
already  received.  What  more  could  Jesus 
have  said  and  done  to  have  relieved  their  suspense, 
to  have  made  his  message  clear  and  his  mission 
understood?  Were  the  credentials  of  truth  and 
genuineness,  of  sincerity  and  wisdom,  of  gentleness 
and  winsomeness  lacking  in  him?  The  disciples 
were  in  the  darkness  of  suspense,  but  Jesus  did 
not  keep  them  there. 

There  is  such  a  thing  as  honest  doubt,  but  it 
never  refuses  a  single  ray  of  light.  Because  it 
cannot  fully  fathom  the  mystery  of  life,  it  does  not 
refuse  the  revelation  of  the  mystery  that  has  been 
given.  Perhaps  I  am  still  crying  to  Christ,  "Why 
hold  me  in  suspense:  if  thou  art  the  Son  of  God 
tell  me  plainly!"  If  this  be  the  sincere  cry  of  a 
penitent  heart,  seeking  its  Saviour,  even  though 
the  darkness  of  doubt  is  all  about  it,  Christ  will 
jDOt  turn  the  seeking  soul  empty  away.  If  I  am 
tempted  and  prone  to  distressing  doubts  and  fears 
it  will  be  well  for  me  to  come  anew  to  the  Saviour 
who  will  not  turn  a  single  sincere  soul  away. 

QCfjouart  tf)c  Cfjrist,  tf)c  ^on  of  tf)e  libing 
<©ob!  PcUcUing,  2t  fja^e  life  tljis  bcrp  bap  in 
tljp  name! 


JULY  FOURTEEN 


3Io})n  10:  28.  ^nb  3  gibe  unto  tfjcm  cter-= 
nal  life;  anb  tjjcp  gfjall  nebcr  perisi),  anb  no 
one  £it)an  senate^  tl)em  out  of  mp  tjanb. 

'EVER,  never,  never!  Let  its  echoes 
ring  out  into  the  recesses  of  eternity. 
The  wolf  with  all  his  love  of  darkness 
is  bold  enough  to  snatch  the  sheep  out 
of  the  fold;  he  would  even  brave  the  daylight, 
when  the  shepherd  is  not  near.  The  Good  Shep- 
herd never  leaves  his  sheep.  The  hand  that  moves 
the  stars  in  their  courses  and  that  rocks  the  world 
in  its  cradle  of  space  is  the  hand  out  of  which  no 
beheving  child  can  be  snatched. 

The  measure  of  our  security  in  the  Christian 
life  is  the  strength  of  him  who  holds  us  by  his  hand. 
If  I  would  know  how  safe  I  am  against  that  great 
day,  let  me  look  at  Christ  and  not  at  myself. 
Will  I  "hold  out"  in  the  hour  of  trial?  Only 
if  I  will  hold  on  to  the  changeless  Christ  who 
will  not  suffer  my  foot  to  be  moved.  Will  my 
bark  reach  the  harbor  of  heaven?  Only  if  the 
Master's  hand  is  at  the  helm!  How  carefully  I 
ought  to  follow  the  markings  of  the  divine  chart 
and  the  pointings  of  the  divine  compass!  In  his 
keeping  I  am  secure.  Apart  from  him  there  is 
no  safety,  but  peril  and  destruction. 

^  ifHagter!  tCfjou  fjastt  Kaib,  "^fjep  sftall 
nebec  perigi),  anb  no  one  dfjall  letnatct)  ti)em  out 
of  mp  tjanb."   I^olb  me  fasit  ttjis:  bap  anb  cbect 


JULY  FIFTEEN 


STotjn  10:  30.    3  anb  tfte  Jfatfjct  arc  one. 

'HE  "oneness"  is  many-sided.  It  is 
oneness  of  nature  and  name,  of  purpose 
and  power,  of  substance  and  glory. 
Perfect   fatherhood   imphes   perfect   son- 


ship.  Jesus  revealed  the  one  by  embodying  the 
other.  The  only  begotten  Son  of  the  Father, 
behind  whose  begetting  there  was  no  beginning, 
reveals  all  of  the  Father's  nature,  because  he  is 
the  eternal  Son.  How  utterly  vain  is  the  effort 
to  pry  asunder  the  Father  and  the  Son  by  the 
scalpel  of  criticism!  What  sheer  sacrilege  to 
attempt  to  plunder  our  Christian  faith  by  taking 
away  the  eternal  oneness  of  the  Father  and  the 
Son!  To  what  useless  lengths  we  go  in  trying  to 
rationalize  our  religion  into  detailed  consistency 
with  ever-changing  philosophies!  "God  .  .  .  hath 
at  the  end  of  these  days  spoken  unto  us  in  his 
Son,  whom  he  appointed  heir  of  all  things." 

•^' 
I  can  do  no  better  to-day  than  to  take  Jesus  at 
his  word  and  to  see  in  him  oneness  with  the  Father. 
I  can  find  no  higher  law  of  life  than,  in  the  words 
of  John  Stuart  Mill,  "to  live  so  that  Jesus  of 
Nazareth  would  approve."  I  can  find  no  more 
royal  way  to  the  throne  of  God  than  by  his  throne 
of  grace  to  which  I  am  bidden  boldly  to  come. 
How  can  I  come?  There  is  only  one  way  —  the 
way  of  saving  faith  which  takes  God  at  his  word. 

0  ILamfa  of  <goti!  iMitf)  penitent,  clinging 
confidence,  US  come! 


JULY  SIXTEEN 


3Iof)n  U :  3.  ®fjc  fiister s  therefore  sent  unto 
ttm,  gaping,  ILorb,  beijolb,  ije  b)t)om  ttou  lobesit 
t£i  sttcb. 

OVE  prompted  their  sending.  His  love  and 
their  love.  We  send  for  those  whom  we 
love  when  we  are  in  trouble,  and  we  hasten 
to  them  when  they  are  in  trouble.  "Night 
brings  out  the  stars":  friendship  reveals  its  rarest 
treasures  in  adversity,  and  love  is  glorified  in 
suffering.  Jesus  was  sent  for  in  the  hour  of  need. 
That  is  the  event  of  note.  There  is  no  better 
one  for  whom  to  send.  Friends  have  their  place; 
the  Christian  physician  and  the  nurse  bring  help 
and  strength.  Jesus  is  indispensable.  It  is  one 
thing,  too,  to  ask  him  to,  enter  a  home  in  its  hour 
of  trial  in  which  he  has  not  been  a  welcome  guest 
in  the  day  of  prosperity;  it  is  another  to  send  for 
him  as  the  dearest  Friend,  in  sunshine  or  shadow. 
What  a  pity  to  wait  to  be  introduced  to  the  Lord 
and  Saviour  until  one  is  helpless  upon  his  back. 

'^- 
My  daily  lesson  is  this:  Send  for  Jesus  in  the 
hour  of  need:  he  is  not  as  far  away  as  "beyond 
the  Jordan."  He  is  as  near  as  my  need.  He  is 
awaiting  the  welcoming,  entreating  word.  Then 
let  come  what  may,  he  will  also  come  and  he  will 
occupy  the  guest  chamber  of  my  soul,  whose  name 
is  Peace.     Have  I  sent?    Then  he  will  come. 

0  jFricnb  bibinc!  ^)a<sttn  to  mj>  fjcart,  mj> 
ijonte,  mp  t)£lp>  foe  tuttijout  ttjee  3  am  bettolate 
inbccbl 


JULY  SEVENTEEN 


3fof)n  II:  4.  Put  tofjcn  ^t&ui  Ijearb  it, 
l)e  saib,  ^ijia  fiiciint&&  is  not  unto  beati),  but 
for  tbc  glorp  of  <gob,  tftat  tjje  ^on  of  (^ob  map 
be  glotificb  tfteccfap. 

ICKNESS  presents  its  perplexing  problem 
to  even  the  most  devout  follower  of  Christ. 
There  are  those  who  attempt  to  solve 
the  problem  by  erasing  it  from  the  black- 
board. There  is  no  sickness,  therefore  there  is 
no  problem.  Even  folk  that  are  otherwise  wise 
are  caught  in  this  snare.  Others  attempt  to  clear 
the  issue  by  tracing  to  the  violation  of  physical 
law,  whether  by  hereditary  entailment  or  by  direct 
disobedience,  every  ache  and  pain.  Still  others 
smart  under  its  lash  as  a  buffeting  of  Satan  which 
the  heavenly  Father  inscrutably  permits.  Jesus 
said, "This  sickness  is  .  .  .  for  the  glory  of  God." 
This  is  a  strange  doctrine,  but  Christian  experience 
has  verified  it  a  thousand  times. 

-$^ 
Some  loved  one  of  mine  may  be  languishing 
upon  a  bed  of  pain.  Dare  I  make  Jesus'  words 
my  assurance  and  see  in  this  hour  of  distress  the 
glory  of  God?  Surely!  To  pray  earnestly  that 
the  cloud  may  pass  away,  to  employ  every  human 
resource  to  mitigate  the  distress  is  not  unchristian. 
fn  the  midst  of  it  all  to  trust  the  never-failing 
goodness  of  God,  is  sublime.  For  a  measure  of 
such  grace  I  pray  to-day. 

0  (Sob  of  Itfcl  (Slotifp  ttpsfclf  in  mv  afflic= 
tion,  anb  bring  it  to  a  perfect  cnb,  as  it  ficcmetft 
best  to  tijee! 


JULY  EIGHTEEN 


HToljn  U:  6.  JUljen  therefore  ijc  l^earb  tfjat 
I)e  \am  ££ick,  tc  abotie  at  ttjat  time  tboo  bapsf  in 
tf)c  place  tDf)crc  fie  tuag. 

'HEREFORE"  joins  his  unaccountable 
conduct  to  his  unmistakable  love.  He 
loved  Martha  and  Mary  and  Lazarus, 
therefore  he  did  not  go  to  their  rescue 


in  the  hour  of  need.  This  seems  almost  absurdity. 
We  need  only  to  trace  the  thread  of  consequence 
one  sentence  farther  back  and  we  see  the  perfect 
purpose.  "The  glory  of  God"  is  the  basis  of 
"therefore":  that  glory,  enriched  in  Jesus'  love 
of  the  Bethany  home,  passes  into  his  purpose  to 
answer  the  sisters'  prayer  in  a  way  of  his  own 
choosing.  His  tarrying  was  deliberate  and 
purposeful. 

'  Does  the  Lord  likewise  deal  with  me?  Are 
the  heavens  above  me  brass?  Does  echo  answer 
the  cry  of  my  heart  for  my  God,  by  crying  back 
to  me:  "Where  is  thy  God?"  Then  let  me  re- 
member how  Jesus  loved  those  of  Bethany  and  how 
he  lingered  in  the  hour  of  need.  He  was  not  un- 
mindful of  them.  He  will  not  be  unmindful  of 
me.  His  answers  are  as  sovereign  as  his  promises, 
but  they  are  equally  loving  and  immutable.  He 
will  come  to  thy  rescue,  O  my  soul,  in  his  own 
good  time!  Trust  him  and  thou  shalt  not  be  con- 
founded! 

jlWabe  fiaste  to  fjclp  me,  €>  mp  <^obI  2ff  mp 
fjasfte  in  anp  tuap  Ijinbcrg  tf)p  perfect  plan,  let 
me  be  content  to  afaibc  tfjp  time,  tJjp  toap,  tljp 
tnill,  foe  t{)ou  &nob]cs;t  besft! 


JULY  NINETEEN 


SFofjn  II:  14,  15.  tEfjcn  STcsfus  ttcrcforc 
saib  unto  tfjcm  plainlj',  ILajarus  is  bcab.  ainb 
3  am  glab  for  pout  fiabcs  Ujat  3  \aai  not  tfjctc, 
to  ti)c  intent  pe  map  bcUcUe;  nebertijelesig  let  wi 
go  unto  tjtm. 

■«^ 

ESUS  was  not  in  the  dark  about  Lazarus  even 
though  he  was  many  miles  away.  He  knew 
that  his  sickness  was  unto  death,  and  he  was 
J/  glad.  His  gladness  was  for  their  sakes.  He 
had  an  eternal  perspective  in  which  to  see  their 
tears  and  their  fears,  their  separations  and  their 
losses.  Their  weeping  might  endure  for  a  night 
but  their  joy  would  come  in  the  morning. 

He  who  had  "the  joy  that  was  set  before  him," 
even  on  Calvary,  is  not  overwhelmed  by  our 
adversity.  To  have  his  viewpoint,  to  share  his 
confidence  in  the  changeless  goodness  of  the 
Father,  to  live,  "sub  specie  eternitatis"  —  in  the 
light  of  eternity,  is  to  be  glad  even  in  our  hours  of 
grief.  Our  gladness,  however,  is  not  like  the  petty 
ripple  upon  the  shallow  stream  caused  by  a 
passing  breeze,  but  like  the  tidal  movement  of 
the  sea. 

"Too  full  for  sound  and  foam 
When  that  which  drew  from  out  the 
boundless  deep 
Turns  again  home." 
-^- 
0  Man  of  sorrotas  anb  atquaintcb  toitf)  grief  I 
^fjare  tfjine  eternal  glabnegs  toitf)  me,  as!  3 
5Sojourn  in  tfje  bale  of  tears! 


JULY  TWENTY 


3Fo{)n  II:  16.  ©Ijomag  therefore,  tobo  is 
callcD  IDibpmuiS,  aaiii  unto  ijis  felloto-biscipleg, 
ILtt  u6  also  go,  tfjat  b)c  map  bic  taitlj  Ijim. 

7HERE  are  two  outstanding  interpreta- 
tions of  this  text.  One,  that  Thomas 
wanted  to  go  and  to  die  with  Lazarus: 
the  other,  that  he  was  wilUng  to  go  and 
to  die  with  Jesus.  In  the  first  case  his  motive 
would  be  despairing  grief  over  the  loss  of  a  friend: 
in  the  other  conquering  courage  for  the  sake  of 
his  Master.  In  either  case,  his  zeal  ran  away 
with  his  judgment.  The  time  would  come  and  did, 
when  more  than  words  of  willingness  was  needed, 
and  when  they  all  were  found  wanting.  Thomas, 
we  admire  thy  courage  but  we  deprecate  thy 
presumption! 

What  of  ourselves,  of  myself?  The  call  of  my 
Master  to-day  is  clear,  "Follow  me!"  "Where, 
Lord?  To  pain,  or  peril,  or  privation?  I  would 
die  for  thee! "  Still  he  calls  to  me  by  his  word  and 
by  his  spirit,  saying,  "Follow  me,  wherever  I 
shall  lead!"  It  may  be  into  the  jaws  of  death. 
In  that  hour  may  he  make  me  ready!  More 
Ukely  it  will  be  into  the  turmoil  of  life,  its  petty 
exactions,  its  monotonous  humdrum.  For  that, 
may  he  find  me  and  keep  me  ever  prepared! 

-^ 
0  tfjou  from  toljom  notljing  can  separate! 
jWap  3  be  as  close  to  tfjee  in  mj»  ebcrpbap  life 
as  3  bopc  to  be  in  tljc  Ijour  of  beatfj!  <g>ibe  me 
liliing  grace  toljilc  3  libe  anb  bping  grace  suffi- 
cient unto  its  appointeb  fjour! 


JULY  TWENTY-ONE 


JJ 


3FoJ)n  U:  20.     iWartfja  tfjcrcforc,  tufjeit  jslje 
tcarb  tijat  Jcsius  taas  coming,  tucnt  anli  met 
fttm:  but  iilarp  still  gat  in  tfjc  Ijouge. 
^^ 

ESUS  loved  them  both  and  they  both  loved 
him.  Each  had  her  own  disposition.  One 
was  active,  resourceful,  energetic,  and  at 
times  "cumbered  about  much  serving":  the 
the  other  was  quiet,  hesitant,  deHcate  of  soul. 
The  one  went  forth  quickly  to  meet  him  and  to 
spread  her  grief  before  him:  the  other  awaited  his 
coming  and  his  call.  Martha  did  not  trust  him 
more  by  going  out  to  meet  him  unbidden:  that  was 
her  way  of  showing  her  confidence.  Mary  did 
not  trust  him  less  by  waiting  his  intimate  call: 
that  was  her  type  of  faith. 

Some  devout  daughter  of  God  may  be  a  Mary. 
Her  peace  of  soul  may  be  somewhat  disturbed 
by  the  bustling  about  of  her  busy  sister.  Ah, 
Mary,  the  Master's  heart  is  large  enough  for  both! 
Some  earnest  follower  of  the  Adaster  may  be  like 
Martha,  and  perhaps  annoyed  by  her  sister's  un- 
demonstrative type  of  faith.  Martha,  thou  hast 
not  exhausted  the  Saviour's  love.  He  needs 
those  who  sincerely  wait  for  him  as  well  as  those 
who  zealously  work  for  him!  Only  one  thing  is 
important.  Is  he  first?  I  would  make  him  first 
in  everything. 


C?  tl)ou  fcafjo  bibgt  slorifp  tfje  ststerfjoob  of 
jHarp  anb  iHartlja!  %n\it  feilotusifjip  to=bap  taitf) 
tf)osc  tiif)o  Efcefe  tijee  ginccrclp,  in  tofjatcbcr  moob 
or  in  tofjatetier  toap  t|)cp  musiti 


JULY  TWENTY-TWO 


3fof)n  11:  21.  22.  ifllartta  tfjcrcforc  gait) 
unto  3fesu£(.  Ilorb.  if  tJjou  fjabfit  been  fjcrc.  mp 
fatotf)cr  tab  not  fixtti.  SnlJ  eben  noto  31  fanoto 
tfjat.  botjatfioebcr  tf)ou  sljalt  afib  of  (Soti.  (Soli 
toill  gibe  ttjce. 

4^ 

^1 — s  VEN  now!    There   is   entreaty  and    con- 

_^      fidence,  desperation  and  submission,  locked 

up    in    these    words.     Martha's    brother 

-^==^  would  have  been  alive  if  Jesus  had  been 


there,  but  even  now,  he  is  abundantly  able  because 
God  will  give  him  whatever  he  asks. 

When  the  worst  is  come  upon  us,  when  our 
fondest  hopes  have  been  blighted  and  our  most 
desperate  fears  have  been  fulfilled,  then  let  the 
soul  say  with  Martha  of  old  "even  now  I  know." 
This  is  an  echo  of  the  faith  of  Job.  Even  now, 
when  the  stroke  of  the  sword  is  upon  my  soul, 
I  will  trust  him.  Even  now,  when  the  sneer  of 
unbeHef  taunts  me,  "Where  is  thy  God?"  I  will 
cling  to  his  goodness.  Even  now,  when  the  re- 
sources of  my  own  efforts  have  come  to  naught, 
I  will  turn  to  his  unfailing  strength  which  is  made 
perfect  in  my  weakness. 

O  my  soul!  Whatever  be  thy  "even  now," 
whether  of  sin  or  of  sorrow,  it  is  thy  opportunity 
to  seek  the  face  of  thy  Saviour  who  has  never 
ceased  seeking  thee.  He  will  not  turn  thee  away, 
"even  now."  He  will  abundantly  pardon  and 
receive,  "even  now."  Therefore,  I  will  come  to 
him,  I  do  come  to  him  "even  now." 

l&car  mc  anb  fjdp  rat,  ©  (Sob  of  mp  Kalba- 
tion,  eben  nob)! 


JULY  TWENTY-THREE 


STofjn  II:  25.  3ti\xi  saib  unto  fjcr,  3  am 
tbe  resurcection,  anb  tlje  life. 

T  is  true  because  he  said  it.  Suppose  that 
Socrates  had  said  it  or  Plato,  Alexander  or 
Napoleon,  Homer  or  Shakspere,  would  men 
have  believed  it?  Not  unless  he  who  said  it 
had  confirmed  it.  There  is  more  comfort  in  this 
dogma  of  Jesus  than  in  all  the  disquisitions  of 
philosophy  and  ethics.  Immortahty  is  the  logical 
conclusion  of  existence,  "if"  there  is  a  perfect 
rational  world  order.  Immortality  crowns  life, 
"if"  man  has  within  him  a  spark  that  is  truly 
divine.  There  is  no  "if"  in  the  words  of  Jesus. 
He  who  said,  "I  am  the  bread  of  hfe,"  "I  am  the 
Light  of  the  world,"  "I  am  the  good  shepherd," 
also  said,  "I  am  the  resurrection,  and  the  life." 
If  he  was  false  in  one,  he  was  false  in  all.  He 
cannot  claim  truly  to  be  the  Light  of  the  world, 
the  Bread  of  hfe,  the  Good  Shepherd,  and  claim 
falsely  to  be  the  Resurrection,  and  the  Life. 

What  a  hopeless  world  it  would  be  without  its 
faith  in  him?  What  a  charnel  house  of  blasted 
desires  and  fruitless  longings  and  unrequited  love 
would  be  this  present  life,  if  Jesus  had  not  revealed 
himself  to  be  the  Resurrection  and  the  Life!  How 
perfectly  the  faith  of  Christendom  gathers  about 
this  simple,  ultimate  word  of  Jesus!  How  con- 
fidently I  may  receive  and  believe  it  to-day! 

€>  tfjou  tofjo  fjastt  tonqucreb  Hjc  lafit  cncmpi 
<Silie  mc  tl)c  jop  of  tfjp  bictorp  in  tl)e  bap  of  mp 
strugslcl 


JULY  TWENTY-FOUR 


^Totjn  II:  25,26.  J^e  tljat  faelicbetf)  on  me, 
tbouBf)  i)t  bie,  pet  sftall  i}t  libc;  anii  baijosocbetr 
libctf)  anb  faeliebetJ)  on  mc  stiall  ncbct  hit. 
Peliebcfit  tljou  tfjis? 

'HE  two  verses  convey  two  distinct  truths. 
One  that  the  behever  in  Christ  who  dies 
shall  yet  live.  The  resurrection  is  his 
guarantee.     The  other  that  the  believer 


in  Christ  who  still  lives  in  the  day  when  the  risen 
Lord  reappears  in  glory,  shall  never  die.  It  will 
not  be  given  to  many  to  claim  the  latter  promise. 
Most  of  those  who  believe  in  him  will  fall  asleep. 
It  gives  faith  a  peculiar  triumph  to  know  that  he 
will  one  day  snatch  from  the  very  jaws  of  death, 
those  who  are  found  faithful  in  the  hour  of  his 
appearance.  There  is,  however,  joy  enough  in 
knowing  that  even  those  of  us  who  must  taste 
death  are  equally  included  in  the  sweep  of  his 
resurrection  power. 

How  gloriously  a  Christian  dares  to  die!  He 
is  not  under  the  shadow  of  the  gallows,  condemned 
and  unpardoned.  He  is  not  Uke  a  pagan  Stoic, 
hard  and  sullen,  conquered  but  still  defiant.  He 
is  able  to  go  into  the  gathering  gloom  with  the 
light  of  heaven  shining  upon  his  face,  and  crying 
as  did  the  first  martyr,  "I  see  .  .  .  the  Son  of 
Man  standing  on  the  right  hand  of  God."  May 
this  be  my  attitude  and  my  confidence. 

t!Ct)OU  toilt  comt  again,  dD  bibine  B^cbcemerl 
H.ibing  or  bping  map  3  be  tfjinc  in  tlje  blefiscb 
bap  ttjat  ii  to  cornel 


JULY  TWENTY-FIVE 


Sfo^n  U:  28.  29.  lainb  tofjcn  sfje  ftab  saib 
tW,  sfjc  tocnt  atoap.  anb  callcb  iWarp  fjer  sis= 
tcr  sctretlp.  gaping,  grije  ^eacljcc  in  fjere.  anb 
calletf)  tfjce.  ainb  gfje.  tafjen  gjjc  fjcarb  it,  arose 
quitfelp,  anb  taent  unto  Ijim. 

LOVING  sister  never  brought  a  more 
welcome  word.  They  had  parted,  weep- 
ing, and  when  they  met  each  other  again 
it  was  only  to  mingle  their  tears  of  sorrow. 
Why  did  Martha  come  with  a  secret  word?  No 
one  who  has  ever  tasted  sorrow  would  ask  such  a 
question.  We  cling  the  closer  to  those  whom  we 
love  in  the  hour  of  grief.  The  Master's  call  was 
no  word  to  be  wasted  upon  curious  or  careless 
ears.  It  was  the  secret  code  of  love.  Mary  had 
the  key  to  the  code  in  her  inmost  heart. 

^■ 
Some  friend  bound  by  ties  of  flesh  or  of  faith 
may  bring  to  me  this  day  the  summons  of  my 
Lord.  Will  I  hear  it?  Will  I  heed  it?  When 
the  Master  comes  and  calls  for  me,  will  I  still  sit 
in  my  solitude,  whether  of  sorrow  or  toil  and  let 
his  call  remain  unanswered?  If  I  am  in  any  way 
held  in  the  bondage  of  grief,  the  Master  has  freedom 
in  his  call.  He  calls  me  and  mine  to  blessings 
UR-bounded  save  by  our  limitations  in  receiving. 
Like  her  of  old  I  will  go  quickly  when  he  calls' 
Praise  God,  the  Master  is  calhng  for  me! 

©  tfjou  tofjofic  call  is  to  life  anb  to  scrtiice!  3 
fjabc  fjearb  tftp  boicc!  Jflap  3  as  elablp  fjccb  it 
anb  folio ta  tfjcc! 


JULY  TWENTY-SIX 


3Iol)n  II:  31.  tKftc  3fcto)S  tljen  tnfto  toerc 
toiti)  iitt  in  tt)e  i)ou£(e,  anb  tnere  con£foltng  t)er, 
tofjen  tftep  gato  itilarp,  tfjat  s:f)C  rose  up  quitblp 
anb  toent  out,  foUotueb  iex,  £fuppo£finQ  tijat  sije 
ttiasi  going  unto  ttje  tomb  to  toeep  ttjcre. 

^^ 

HEY  were  well-meaning  but  troublesome 

friends.     They    thronged    the    house    at 

Bethany   and   made   it   loud   with   their 

lamentations.     When  Mary  suddenly  left 


in  response  to  the  secret  call  of  her  Lord,  they 
misunderstood  her  swift  departure  and  hurried 
after  her,  as  they  thought,  to  the  tomb  of  her 
brother.  They  did  not  know  that  her  face  was 
turned  from  the  shadows  of  the  night  to  the  glory 
of  the  dawn.  Even  Mary  herself  did  not  know 
the  full  measure  of  blessing  that  was  to  be  hers. 

Every  sorrowing  soul  knows  the  comforts  and 
the  crosses  of  friendship.  Those  who  would  help 
us  often  hurt  us  by  their  bhmderings.  They  rush 
into  the  sohtude  of  our  sorrow  with  chatter  and 
commonplace.  What  recourse  have  we?  Mary 
fled  from  the  solitude  of  her  sorrow,  through  the 
outposts  of  earthly  companionship,  into  the  citadel 
of  her  Saviour's  heart.  He  alone  could  fathom 
her  heart's  deep  aching  and  he  alone  could  dry 
her  burning  tears.  Let  me  do  as  Mary  did  and 
I  will  fmd  rehef  both  from  the  grief  of  my  soul 
and  from  the  suffering  caused  by  friends  who  do 

not  understand  me. 

-^ 
<i>  Jfjolp  ^abiour,  Jfricnb  unseen,  map  no 
misunbcrstanbing  on  mp  part  beep  from  me 
tbe  ligtt  of  ttp  countenance! 


JULY  TWENTY-SEVEN 


foljn  U:  33.  Wi)tn  ^tiui  tfjercforc  siata 
i)et  toeeptng,  anli  tf)c  Te^i  al£(o  tueeping  tai)o 
tame  biiti)  tcr,  \)e  groaneti  in  tije  sfpicit,  anti 
b)a£f  tcoublcb. 


n^HIS  is  indeed  a  "vale  of  tears"!  The 
wailing  of  the  Orient  is  proverbial.  Hired 
mourners  went  about  the  streets.  Be- 
neath all  the  sham  there  was  reality. 
Two  sisters'  hearts  were  broken:  loving  neighbors 
were  mourning  the  loss  of  a  dear  friend.  "Jesus 
wept." 

The  tears  that  fell  that  day  were  not  only  those 
of  sorrow.  There  were  tears  of  a  diviner  sort. 
Jesus  groaned  within  himself,  or,  literally,  "was 
moved  with  indignation  in  the  spirit"  and 
"troubled  himself."  We  must  remember  that  it 
was  the  same  Saviour  who  was  moved  with  com- 
passion who  was  also  moved  with  indignation. 
These  are  not  fickle  moods  but  permanent  atti- 
tudes toward  human  life.  Just  as  a  loving  earthly 
parent  is  moved  to  tears  of  more  than  sympathy 
by  the  limitations  of  a  beloved  child,  even  so, 
but  by  infinitely  more,  is  the  tender  Saviour 
moved  within  himself  over  the  griefs  and  misun- 
derstandings of  his  followers. 

My  griefs  move  my  Saviour!  Whatever  be  his 
attitude  toward  the  things  to  which  I  am  often 
too  servile,  he  is  changeless  in  his  compassionate 
love  toward  me,  his  weakest  child. 

-^' 
9[)S  tf)ou,  0  Cftrigt,  hitjit  toecp  for  me,  map 
tJjp  rejoicing  also  fill  mp  Ijcatt  to=iiap! 


JULY  TWENTY-EIGHT 


3fof)n  II:  35.    3Fcgu3  tocpt. 

'HAT  tears!  Even  the  perfect  Man 
could  weep.  This  shortest  verse  in  the 
Bible  is  the  pathway  to  the  never- 
failing  fountain  of  compassion  which  is 
in  the  Son  of  God  made  flesh.  By  his  weeping  he 
taught  us  the  real  meaning  of  tears.  They  were 
not  intended  to  burn  with  their  bitterness  or  to 
disfigure  with  their  copiousness.  They  were 
purposed  to  be  like  the  dew  of  the  morning  which 
breaks  the  fever  of  the  night.  More  multitudes 
have  thronged  the  footsteps  of  the  Saviour  who 
wept  than  ever  hailed  the  coronation  of  a  king. 
A  million  mourning  pilgrims  have  bathed  their 
grief-stained  faces  in  the  fountain  of  his  tears. 

I  may  not  be  in  the  mood  of  tears  to-day. 
Sorrow  may  be  leagues  away  and  grief  a  total 
stranger.  Surer  than  the  dawning  of  to-morrow, 
the  day  of  anguish  and  tears  will  break  upon  me 
with  its  tempest  of  distress.  In  that  certaiA  hour 
there  will  be  no  refuge  half  so  secure,  no  solace 
half  so  sweet  as  the  presence  of  the  Son  of  Man 
who  wept  by  the  tomb  of  Lazarus.  In  all  the 
centuries  and  in  every  land  men  have  stood  weep- 
ing beside  their  entombed  love.  Blessed  those 
with  whom  Jesus  stands  also  weeping!  If  this  be 
the  day  of  my  grief,  he  will  weep  with  me! 

^tinc  tijrousb  anp  tloub  of  gloom  tfjat  map 
Ijang  loto  about  me,  €>  (Sob,  mp  ^abiouc,  anb 
gibe  me  tijp  jop  in  tf)c  milJSt  of  mp  fiorrotol 


JULY  TWENTY-NINE 


3Iof)n  11:  38,  39.  3}tiu6  therefore  again 
Qroanins  in  fjimgcU  cometl)  to  Hjc  tomb.  J^oto 
it  toag  a  tabc,  anb  a  stone  lap  against  it. 
Jlema  fiaitfj,  ^aht  pe  atoap  ttje  stone. 

=/HEY  could  not  raise  the  dead  but  they 
could  take  away  the  stone.  He  could 
have  done  both.  The  one  who  called  life 
forth  out  of  death  could  have  rolled  back 


the  stone  at  a  word,  but  it  was  not  his  plan.  Let 
men  do  what  they  will  and  can!  God  himself 
will  do  his  own  self-appointed  work.  The  stone 
must  be  rolled  away.  That  is  a  human  contri- 
bution to  the  divine  program.  Jesus  will  speak  the 
word  of  limitless  power;  but  men  must  take  away 
the  barriers  their  own  hands  have  erected. 

It  may  be  that  I  have  been  praying  for  a  revival 
of  religion  in  my  church,  and  crying,  "0  Lord 
revive  thy  work,"  when  he  responds  "Take  ye 
away  the  stone!"  "What  stone,  0  Master?" 
Misunderstandings  and  bitterness,  unforgiven  and 
unconfessed  sins,  wrath  and  clamor  and  evil- 
speaking!  These  things  must  be  put  away 
before  the  full  blessing  of  God  will  come!  It  may 
be  also  that  at  the  threshold  of  a  new  hfe  for  me 
there  is  some  huge  and  heavy  stone  that  makes  me 
as*  one  dead.  God  alone  can  speak  the  word  of 
power  that  I  may  roll  away  the  stone  in  order 
that  he  may  give  me  life  from  above! 

|f?elp  me,  tm»  ^afaiour,  to  bo  mp  part  in  tfje 
sabing  of  a  soul!  ®|)ou  alone  canst  sabe, 
but  21  map  roll  atoap  tfte  stone! 


JULY  THIRTY 


JJ 


3Foj)n  XI:  41,  42.  ^o  tfjcp  took  afcoap  tl)c 
gtonc.  2lnt  fegug  lifteb  up  Ijisf  cpcs,  anb  Kaib, 
jfatter,  31  tbanb  tftcc  tl)at  tt)ou  ijcarbcst  me. 
anb  3  bncto  ttjat  tl)ou  ftcarcsJt  mc  altoapg: 
but  faecausic  of  tlje  muUitube  tfjat  gtanbetf) 
arounb  31  gaib  it,  tf)at  tljep  map  beliebe  tftat 
tijou  bibst  fienb  mc. 

YfESUS  lifted  up  his  eyes,"  for  he  could  see 
afar.  His  field  of  vision  was  more  boundless 
than  the  Milky  Way.  His  soul  swept  past 
the  outposts  of  created  things  across  the 
chasm  of  infinity  and  entered  the  ineffable  glory 
of  the  life  to  come.  He  "lifted  up  his  eyes"  and 
saw  —  God,  the  Source  of  life.  In  that  breathless 
moment,  when  the  stone  had  been  rolled  away 
and  every  eye  was  fixed  upon  him  as  in  a  trance, 
his  eyes  were  lifted  to  God. 

Do  I  need  the  less  to  lift  my  eyes  heavenward? 
Wide  horizons  of  culture,  position  and  attainment 
are  no  substitute  for  the  full  sweep  of  consciousness 
which  comes  only  when  the  soul  lifts  its  eyes 
towards  God.  The  testing  of  my  faith  may  come 
in  an  hour  when  friends  will  be  heavy  with  grief 
and  enemies  alert  with  guile.  This  very  day  may 
mark  the  turning  point  in  my  earthly  career. 
What  need  I,  dare  I,  fear,  if  my  eyes  are  lifted  up 
to  him  who  has  brought  fife  and  immortality  to 
light  through  his  gospel? 

0  ttou  toljo  fcoitf)  upUfteb  epc«  bibst  sec  tfjc 

jop  of  rcbcmption  cbcn  from  ttjc  trosfs!    ??elp 

mc  to  fiet  ti)t  coming  glorp  cUcn  in  tijc  mibat 
of  pagscing  jsocrotu. 


JULY  THIRTY-ONE 


EToftn  II:  43.   ainb  taften  fjc  fjati  tftus  spofecn, 
f)c  cricti  Ujitf)  a  louti  boite,  Eajarus,  lomc  fottlj. 


-^^ 


'T       TTE  spoke  first  to  God  in  prayer;    then  to 
Y=^     the   dead   with   power.     The   simphcity 
\^       J_[   of  the  Gospel  record  at  this  point  is  its 
most    striking    witness.     It    was    "one, 
clear  call"  from  the  Lord  of  life,  across  the  chasm 
of  mortahty  to  his  own  sleeping  child,  "Lazarus, 
come  forth."     Could  the  opened  tomb  do  more 
than  to  echo  back  a  resentful,  incredulous  "Come 
forth"?     Who   is   he   who   commands   death   as 
though  it  were  the  meanest  slave  in  all    the  uni- 
verse and  he  its  Lord?     None  other  than  One 
who  is  Lord  of  life. 

-$^ 

If  I  would  know  how  God  would  speak  to  timid 
souls,  let  me  hsten  to  Jesus  as  he  says,  "It  is  I- 
be  not  afraid."  If  I  would  learn  God's  intonation 
as  he  mvites  the  weary,  heavy-laden  soul,  I  may 
hear  the  voice  of  Jesus  saying  "Come  unto  me 
.  .  .  and  I  will  give  you  rest."  If  I  would  hear  the 
voice  of  the  Almighty  thundering  forth  his  fiat 
of  life,  and  destroying  death,  I  need  but  hear 
Jesus  say,  "  Lazarus,  come  forth."  How  beautiful, 
how  gentle,  how  mighty,  how  glorious  is  the  voice 
of  the  Son  of  God! 

"  tlTfjou  hjfjose  almigfttp  tuorb, 
CfjaoiS  anb  barbncfis  tcarb, 
ainb  toofe  tteir  fligfjt," 
^pcafe  peace  anb  potoec  to  me  ta=baj>I 


AUGUST  ONE 


3Fot)n  11:  44.  ^t  tfjat  teas  beab  tame 
fortf),  faouni)  ftanb  anb  foot  toitt)  grabctlotljcs; 
anb  IjtS  face  teas  bounb  about  toitf)  a  napkin. 
STesus  saitlj  unto  tfjcm,  Hoose  f)im,  anb  let 
Ijim  so. 

T  would  do  Lazarus  little  good  to  live  in  grave- 
clothes.  It  was  proper  in  the  Orient  to  bind 
a  corpse  in  embalming  linen  and  to  wrap 
the  head  with  a  napkin.  A  living  man  needs 
to  be  loosed  and  let  go.  Jesus  gave  Lazarus  life 
from  the  dead.  It  rested  upon  his  friends  to  loose 
him  and  let  him  go.  Robert  Browning  tells  us  in 
his  "Karshish,"  that  Lazarus,  after  his  resurrec- 
tion, was  unfitted  for  living  on  earth. 

"Heaven  opened  to  a  soul  while  yet  on  earth, 
Earth  forced  on    a    soul's  use    while    seeing 
heaven." 
It  may  be  so.     In  any  event  it  was  the  Master's 
purpose  that  he  should  reenter  life  again. 

-$^ 
This  is  a  sovereign,  serious  call  for  me.  My 
part  is  not  to  wake  the  dead,  but  to  remove  the 
graveclothes.  I  cannot  give  life  from  above  to 
the  soul  dead  in  its  trespasses  and  sins,  but  I 
can  help  to  take  away  those  limitations  which 
would  unfit  it  for  service.  It  may  be  that  even 
I,  myself,  am  trying  to  live  while  bound  in  the 
graveclothes  of  my  dead  self.  The  Son  of  -God 
is  then  saying  in  my  behalf,  "Loose  him,  and  let 
him  go." 

J^tlp  me  to  6e  free  from  tJje  clotljes  of  bcatfj 
an  tocU  an  from  its  potncr,  0  Horb  of  life,  anb 
t)elp  me  to  6tt  ott)er£(  free! 


AUGUST  TWO 


STofjn  XI:    47.     tIDfjc  cfjief  priestg  tfjeteforc 
anb  tf)c  ^f)ari£(ec£(  gatljcrcti  a  council,  anlr  saib, 
bo  toe?   foe  tljig  man  boctfj  manp  Kigns. 


EN  are  prone  to  imagine  that  their  de- 
cisions and  their  deeds  thwart  the  pur- 
poses of  God.  They  bend  their  efforts 
to  establish  unrighteousness.  They 
oppress  the  poor  and  defraud  the  widow  and  the 
fatherless  for  a  bribe.  They  plot  and  scheme 
against  the  movements  of  God  in  modern  life, 
wherein  he  purposes  to  set  men  free  from  the 
seductive  snare  of  sin.  "In  the  twinkling  of  an 
eye"  the  Lord  will  make  bare  his  mighty  arm. 
"Who  shall  stand  when  he  appeareth?  for  he  is 
like  a  refiner's  fire." 

There  is  no  need  for  me  to  become  full  of  fear 
or  panic-stricken  because  for  one  brief  day  wrong 
parades  in  the  garments  of  the  throne,  and  right 
endures  the  ignominy  of  the  scaffold.  The  Phar- 
isees were  worldly-wise.  They  needed  to  be  up 
and  doing,  but  what  was  all  their  doing  in  the 
face  of  him  who  did  the  works  of  God?  Be  still 
and  be  assured  my  soul!  He  that  is  for  thee  is 
more  and  mightier  than  those  that  are  against 
thee.  "Neither  death,  nor  life  .  .  .  nor  any  other 
creature,  shall  be  able"  in  the  day  of  the  power 
of  the  Son  of  God! 

JBBfjat  gfjall  3  bo,  tofjat  can  3  bo.  0  CJjrist, 
toitljout  tfjcc?  3  can  bo  notting.  3  toill  bo 
nottjing  tottijout  ttjtne  atb! 


AUGUST  THREE 


EToljn  II:  52.  ^nb  not  for  tfte  nation  onip, 
but  tfjat  i)t  mtsbt  also  gatljer  togctfjcr  into  one 
ttie  cljiltiren  of  (@oti  ttjat  ace  scattered  abcoab. 


TT 


T  has  been  a  world-wide  gospel  from  the  begin- 
ning. It  is  true  that  there  were  then  as 
there  are  now,  those  who  would  make  it  a 
select  religion  for  a  chosen  few.  There  were 
those  in  the  early  Church  "who  did  not  beheve 
in  foreign  missions."  There  were  plenty  of 
heathen  in  Jerusalem  without  Paul's  going  to 
Asia  Minor  and  to  Rome.  Fortunately,  then  as 
now,  the  Word  of  God  was  not  bound.  The  un- 
worthy high  priest  of  Israel  became  the  spokesman 
of  inspired  truth,  and  set  forth  Jesus  as  appointed 
to  die  for  the  sins  of  the  nation,  "and  not  for  the 
nation  only,"  but  for  all  the  scattered  children 
of  God. 

"Scattered  children!"  Such  is  the  lot  of  life. 
"We  all  know  its  meaning.  North,  south,  east 
and  west,  they  have  gone,  and  some  have  left  us 
for  the  skies.  Likewise  God's  children  are  scat- 
tered bairns.  They  dwell  in  a  thousand  tribes 
and  speak  a  myriad  tongues,  but  they  are  God's 
children.  Remember,  though,  that  they  are 
scattered  children  who  need  to  be  gathered  to- 
gether. Only  a  divine  Redeemer,  in  whose  blood 
many  bloods  are  made  one,  is  able  to  gather  into 
one  family  every  nation  of  men. 

€>  tfjou  Jfatfjcr  of  tijp  gcattcrcb  djilbrenl 
(Satfjcr  me  toitlj  all  of  tljp  tansfomeb  ones  for 
ti)P  namt'i  &akt\ 


AUGUST  FOUR 


3Iof)ti  II:  53.  ^0  from  tftat  bap  fortf) 
tljep  toob  counsel  tl)at  tfjcp  misftt  put  fjim  to 
Ijcatl). 

"^ROM  this  moment  the  Saviour's  path  led 
=^  onward  to  Calvary.  The  Fourth  Gospel 
is  builded  about  this  verse.  Until  this 
^  time,  the  Bread  of  life  has  been  offered  and 
revealed  to  us.  Henceforth  we  will  behold  that 
divine  Bread  broken  for  us.  Just  as  in  Bunyan's 
allegory  the  pilgrims  are  pictured  under  the  spell 
of  the  Heavenly  City  where  they  cross  the  thresh- 
old of  Beulah  land,  so  does  the  discerning  spirit 
discover  the  peculiar  fragrance  of  the  cross  of 
eternal  love,  prophetically  distilled  through  all 
the  sacred  words  written  in  the  succeeding  chapters 
of  John's  Gospel. 

It  has  been  blessed  for  me,  thus  far,  to  keep 
company  with  my  Lord  and  Saviour.  He  has  been 
my  Teacher  and  my  Exemplar,  my  Helper  and  my 
Guide.  Henceforth  I  will  need  to  draw  nearer 
and  nearer  to  his  Cross  and  mine.  Opposition" 
to  him  will  deepen  into  murderous  hatred.  Foes 
will  threaten  and  friends  will  forsake  him.  May 
the  closing  months  and  days  of  the  year  bring 
rne  into  closer  fellowship  with  him  who  went 
unflinchingly  to  his  Cross  for  me. 

"€'cn  tfjougi)  it  be  a  Cross 
®t)at  ratsetlj  me; 
Mtaxet.  mp  (&ob,  to  tfjcci" 


AUGUST  FIVE 


M 


5o!jn  12:  2.    ^o  tljcp  matjt  Ijim  a  sfuppcr 
tljcrc:   anb  iHartfja  jserbrb;   but  ILajarug  baas 
one  of  tJjem  tJjat  fiat  at  meat  toitlj  Ijim. 
-^- 

'^  /T^N  ^^  ^^^  make  suppers  for  dead  people. 
Lazarus  had  been  raised  from  the  grave 
and  had  taken  his  place  in  the  family 
circle  again.  Martha  had  gone  back 
to  her  serving,  Mary  to  her  meditating,  Lazarus 
to  his  own  accustomed  place.  Jesus  was  the 
Guest,  but  he  was  no  Stranger.  We  wonder  that 
the  Master  permitted  such  an  expression  of  their 
love  for  himself.  If  he  had  shared  our  conven- 
tional views  of  propriety  he  would  have  said: 
"This  is  no  time  for  a  feast!  What  can  these 
people  be  thinking  about,  to  feast  so  soon  as  they 
have  emerged  from  the  shadow  of  the  tomb!" 
Fortunately  it  was  to  real  life  and  not  to 
its  shadow  that  Jesus  had  restored  Lazarus. 
Martha's  serving,  too,  must  have  been  voluntary. 
She  gave  it  for  the  same  reason  that  they  gave 
the  feast  and  that  Mary  gave  the  precious  oint- 
ment,—  because  of  love. 

What  revolutions  would  be  wrought  in  society 
and  in  the  home  to-day  if  Jesus  were  the  Guest 
of  honor!  How  foohsh  of  me  to  think  that  the 
Master  does  not  attend  every  feast  within  my 
house,  is  not  a  silent  listener  to  every  conversa- 
tion. Would  that  he  might  sit  at  meat  with  me 
to-day  as  intimately  as  he  did  in  Bethany  of  old! 

-$^ 
0  jJHaSter  of  mine!   (£nter  tl)ou  into  mj>  j'opis 
anb  gottotos  alibe  t\)i<i  bap! 


AUGUST    SIX 


3Soi)n  12:  3.  illarp  tbcrcforc  toofe  a  pount 
ot  ointment  of  pure  narb,  berp  precious,  anlj 
anointeb  tfje  feet  of  STesus,  anb  toipeb  fjis  feet 
toitij  tjer  i)air:  anb  t|]e  \)omt  tuas  filleb  taiti) 
t\)t  oboe  of  tlje  ointment. 

'E  are  beginning  where  Judas  began,  if 
the  first  thing  we  do  is  to  figure  out 
the  vahie  of  the  pound  of  ointment. 
Let  us  begin  where  Mary  finished  and 
what  do  we  have?  The  fragrance  of  Uberated 
love!  Mary's  act  was  the  abandon  of  love.  She 
gave  all  that  she  had. 

0  holy  love,  let  me  be  lavish  of  myself  to-day! 
Too  often  I  have  counted  the  cost,  for  I  am  but 
human.  I  cannot  give  more  than  I  have  and  I 
would  not  promise  what  I  cannot  perform.  There 
is  so  much,  however,  that  I  have  not  given.  There 
are  moments  and  talents  still  withheld,  chords 
of  harmony  unsung  and  sweet  odors  of  devotion 
that  are  still  in  the  unbroken  alabaster  box.  Will 
there  ever  dawn  a  day  more  fitting,  will  there 
ever  draw  near  One  more  worthy,  in  which  and 
upon  whom  to  spend  the  utmost  of  my  love? 
He  who  suffered  Mary  to  anoint  and  wipe  his 
feet  will  not  brush  lightly  aside  even  my  tears  if 
they  are  messengers  of  love. 

-^ 

Mbat  can  3  gibe  to  tfjee,  0  "Eorb,  in  return 
for  toftat  tfjou  fjast  giben  to  me?  (Z^nlp  mpself ! 
3  gibe  mpself  to  tbee! 


AUGUST  SEVEN 


D 


STofjn  12:   4,  5.     |8ut  STubag  Sstariot,  one 
of  tis  bijJtiplcB!,  tfjat  filjoulb  faetrap  tjim,  Saitlj, 
UatP  toas  not  tt)ig  ointment  fiolb  for  tfjrce  OuniJccb 
)Sl)iUingg,  anb  giben  to  tfte  poor? 
-*(*• 
ESUS   afterwards    called   Judas   "the   son   of 
perdition,"    literally   "the  wastrel,"  or   "the 
son    of    waste."     The    Master    turned    the 
traitor's  tables  upon  the  traitor  himself  and 
branded  him  with  the  very  iron  with  which  he 
sought   to    stigmatize   devoted    Mary.     There   is 
a  loving  Mary  and  a  treacherous  Judas  at  every 
feast  and  in  every  heart.     There  is  such  a  genuine 
interplay  of  influence  between  what  men  desire 
and  what  they  do  that  we  cannot  do  otherwise 
than  judge  Judas  by  his  latter  end.     If  this  be 
the  story  of  every  heart,  of  my  heart,  may  God 
drive  the  Judas  out  and  let  the  loving  spirit  of 
Mary  have  its  way! 


■  Is  greed  for  gain  sapping  my  spiritual  strength 
and  distorting  my  love  for  those  nearest  and 
dearest  to  me  after  the  flesh,  to  say  nothing  of 
my  love  for  him?  Is  money  madness  using  the 
cloak  of  censoriousness  of  others  as  a  means  of 
escaping  from  the  charge  of  sordidness?  If  the 
ulcer  of  Judas  is  within  my  heart,  it  must  come  out. 
Either  Jesus  must  take  it  out  by  cutting  or  by 
burning:  or  it  will  come  out  upon  my  soul  — 
the  loathsome  malady  of  treason,  under  whose 
mahgn  influence  I,  too,  would  sell  my  Lord  for 
thirty  pieces  of  silver! 

aifagolbe  me  from  ttje  peril  anb  tlje  sin  of 
treason  to  tljee.  €>  <&ob,  anb  beep  me  true! 


AUGUST  EIGHT 


SToljn  12:  6.  jBlota  tljis;  fje  saib,  not  bt- 
tame  fjc  tarcb  for  tfje  poor;  but  because  fte  toas 
a  tttef,  anb  tjabtng  ttjc  bag  took  atoap  tofjat 
tuag  put  tijerein. 

^0  care  for  the  poor  is  Christlike.  There 
are  many  who  are  doing  it  day  by  day, 
quietly,  humbly,  devoutly.  To  pretend 
to  care  for  the  poor,  while  taking  chief 


care  of  one's  own  selfish  interests,  is  sham  charity, 
and.  Judaslike,  will  have  his  reward.  There 
are  Utopian  schemes  of  economic  and  social  wel- 
fare that  have  been  valiantly  promoted,  and  that 
have  gone  up  in  smoke,  because  those  who  car- 
ried the  bag  cared  not  for  the  poor.  Professional 
agitators  stir  up  the  employed,  leaving  an  army 
of  impoverished  folk,  and  go  their  blithe  way, 
for  they  care  not  for  the  poor  but  are  thieves 
and  bear  the  bag.  Selfish  employers  exploit 
their  employees  and  go  their  gilded  way  for  they 
bear  the  bag  and  care  not  for  the  poor. 

My  custody  of  funds  may  be  of  small  amount 
or  of  large.  In  any  event,  the  principle  is  the 
same.  No  money  must  stick  to  the  fingers  of 
him  who  bears  the  bag.  More  imperative  is  the 
obligation  to  care  for  Christ's  afflicted  ones,  not 
foj  any  recompense  that  may  come  to  me  but  for 
their  own  sakes  and  for  his  sake.  I  would  be  one 
who  truly  serves,  with  honesty  of  heart,  ready  at 
any  hour  to  give  my  stewardship  unto  God. 

'^- 
illap  3  remember  tijose  tJjis;  bap  tofjom  tfjou, 
0  Cfjriat,  bibgt  call  tJjinc  ohm!   illiniBtcring 
uttto  tfjem  3  tooulb  minister  uitto  tbee! 


AUGUST  NINE 


HTotn  12:  10.  ?@ut  ti)t  cfjicf  priests  toofe 
counsel  tl)at  tljep  miBljt  put  1la?arus  also  to 
beati). 


''HE  man  who  ventures  with  Jesus  must 
venture  his  all.  The  Captain  of  our 
salvation  commands  his  soldiers  to  burn 
all  their  bridges  behind  them.  Since 
he  is  willing  to  endure  the  soldier's  lot,  the  latter 
must  stand  or  fall  with  him.  Lazarus  had  done 
nothing  to  incur  the  enmity  of  the  rulers  of  his 
day.  It  was  what  Jesus  did  that  stirred  their 
ire  into  murderous  intent.  Lazarus  dead  was 
worthy  of  mourning,  but  Lazarus  alive  upsets 
their  plans.     Away  with  Lazarus! 

There  is  a  more  intimate  truth  for  me  here. 
It  was  the  witness  of  one  made  alive  which  per- 
suaded many  to  believe  in  Christ.  That  law 
still  holds.  For  every  scholarly  sermon  that  has 
brought  one  soul  into  the  kingdom,  the  testimony 
of  a  changed  life  has  moved  a  dozen.  Twice-born 
men  beget  more  faith  than  a  dozen  essays  on  the 
new  birth.  This  is  assuring  for  me.  It  is  not 
my  eloquence  or  logic  that  wins  men  to  Christ, 
but  my  witness  concerning  what  I  have  both 
seen  and  heard.  God  may  not  have  given  me  a 
smooth  tongue  or  a  clever  mind,  but  he  has  gi-ven 
me,  like  Lazarus,  life  from  the  dead.  I  will  go  on 
the  witness  stand  for  Jesus  to-day. 

0  iWasterl   (j^ibc  me  a  faitljful,  persebering 
i)eart  anb  a  true  anb  totUins  tongue  tf)is  bap! 


AUGUST  TEN 


3lo\)n  12:  15.     jFcar  not,  baugfjtcr  of  Hion: 
fadjolti,  tfjp  Hing  comttlj,  sitting  on  an  asfi's  colt. 

'HEN  the  King  comes,  the  daughter  of 
Zion  will  not,  cannot,  fear.  It  is  her 
King.  She  has  suffered  many  things 
at  the  hands  of  the  kings  of  the  Gen- 
tiles. They  have  defded  her  law,  profaned  her 
sanctuary  and  led  her  sons  and  daughters  captive. 
They  have  put  the  yoke  of  toil  about  her  neck 
and  the  brand  of  slavery  upon  her  back.  They 
have  led  her  little  ones  into  captivity.  When 
lo,  her  own  King  cometh!  Then  her  fear  is  turned 
into  desire  and  her  mourning  into  music. 

Why  should  I  fear,  if  I  have  a  coming  King? 
There  is  no  need  for  me  to  be  panic-stricken  in 
the  midst  of  kings  who  "set  themselves  .  .  . 
against  Jehovah."  They  are  all  passing  rulers, 
whose  dominion  is  for  a  day  and  whose  place 
will  soon  know  them  no  more.  My  King  is  coming 
upon  his  triumphant  way  adown  the  years.  "He 
hath  on  his  garment  and  on  his  thigh  a  name 
written,  King  of  Kings,  and  Lord  of  Lords!" 
"He  who  testiheth  these  things  saith.  Yea:  I 
come  quickly.    Amen:  come.  Lord  Jesus." 

<&i\}t  me,  to=l>ap,  0  %oxh.  tl)at  perfect  lobe 
tljat  castctf)  out  all  fear! 

311  fjail  tbe  potaer  of  STesufii'  name! 
9nlJ  crotun  Ijim  ILorb  oi  all. 


AUGUST  ELEVEN 


3Io!)n  12:  19.  ^fje  Pharisees  tftcrcfotc 
eaiti  among  tfjcmselbes,  JScijoliJ  ftoto  pc  prcbail 
nottjing;  lo,  lift  tooclt)  i£(  gone  after  i)im. 

HEIR  motives  were  base,  but  their  logic 
was  faultless.  They  hated  the  prevailing 
Saviour  but  they  acknowledged  his  sway. 
No  miser  ever  saw  his  gold  melting  away 


with  greater  grief  than  did  the  Pharisees  behold 
Jesus  prevail.  They  hated  the  Holy  One  of  God 
without  a  cause.  "  Lo,  the  world  is  gone  after  him ! " 
Does  their  unwilling  prophecy  halt  in  its  fulfill- 
ment? Has  it  ceased  to  be  true?  Even  the 
Pharisees  but  five  days  later  laughed  their  fears 
to  scorn  and  took  new  stock  of  their  courage  as 
they  looked  each  other  in  the  face,  when  a  weary 
Galilean  peasant  stood  before  the  Sanhedrin. 

"The  world  is  gone  after  him."  There  is  none 
other  name!  Jesus  shall  reign!  Rich  and  poor, 
wise  and  foolish,  men,  women  and  children, 
have  come  under  his  righteous  rule!  Even  yet 
there  are  those  who  fear  the  outcome  of  the  fight 
and  who  will  not  take  sides  with  Jesus.  They 
will  cry  "Hosanna!"  to-day  and  "Crucify!" 
to-morrow.  God  forbid  that  I  should  be  of  such! 
May  my  witness  ever  be: 

"My  faith  looks  up  to  thee, 
Thou  Lamb  of  Calvary, 
Saviour  divine." 

0  Cfjrtgt!  Sleep  me  tlosc  to  tfjee,  tljat  bp 
constant,  faitt)ful  tuitnesfStng  3  map  biin  otbecK 
to  tljeel 


AUGUST    TWELVE 


loftn  12:  21.  ^Cljefie  Ujcrcforc  came  to 
|3J)ilip,  toJjo  fcoas  of  JSetfjfiaiba  of  (galilce,  anlJ 
afifecb  J)tm,  sapins,  ^ix,  tue  tooulb  sec  3Jcgus. 

'7       TTE  was  the  One  to  see.     He   is    the  One 
L^     to  see.     Whether  Greeks  or  Jews,  Saxons 

.1  JLl  *^^  ^^^^^'  ^^^^'^  ^^  ^^^y  0^6  ill  all  the  world 
whom  all  the  world  seeks  to  see.  It  is 
Jesus.  There  were  nine  day  wonders  then  as 
now.  These  Grecian  Jews  had  come  a  long  way 
to  attend  the  passover.  They  might  have  spent 
their  time  in  a  dozen  directions,  but  they  wanted 
to  see  Jesus.  We  do  not  blame  them;  we  admire 
them  for  wanting  to  see  One  whom  we  would  give 
worlds  to  see. 

I,  too,  would  see  Jesus.  Not  with  eyes  of  flesh 
for  these  are  not  the  days  of  his  flesh;  but  with  hu- 
man eyes,  for  Jesus  is  human,  "bone  of  my  bones 
and  flesh  of  my  flesh,"  God-man  forever.  I  would 
see  him  in  the  simplicity  of  faith  and  would  see 
m  him  the  splendor  of  faith,  its  Goal  and  its  Crown. 
I  would  see  him  as  God  sees  him,  beloved  Saviour, 
Prophet,  Priest  and  King!  In  the  zenith  sun  or 
in  the  night  watches  of  this  summer  day  I  seek  no 
higher,  holier,  clearer  vision  than  the  sight,  by 
faith,  of  him  "whom  having  not  seen,"  I  love. 
May  I  see  no  man  but  Jesus  only! 

0  Cfjn'st  afaobc  anb  faenonb  all  else  anb  cbcrp 
otijcc!  iflap  3  sec  fijce  first  anb  lobe  thee 
most! 


AUGUST  THIRTEEN 


f  o})n  12:  24.  "^ctilp,  bctilp,  3  gap  unto 
pou,  except  a  grain  of  tomcat  fall  into  t|)e  cartb 
anb  bte,  it  abibett)  bp  itself  alone;  but  if  it  hit, 
it  bearetl)  muci)  fcuit. 


V7 


ESUS,  about  to  die,  looked  out  upon  the 
harvest  field  and  saw  the  glory  of  ripened 
grain.  He  felt  the  fellowship  of  its  life,  which 
JJ  had  come  only  through  the  gateway  of  death. 
If  so  small  a  thing  as  a  grain  of  wheat  could  give 
comfort  and  courage  to  the  Son  of  God,  because  it 
revealed  the  Father's  holy,  gracious  will,  I  ought 
to  be  satisfied  with  that  which  satisfied  my  Lord. 

We  shall  never  be  able  to  explain  the  mystery  of 
sacrifice  unto  death.  Why  do  certain  lower  orders 
of  life  die,  in  the  act  of  begetting?  Why  does  a 
human  mother  often  pour  out  her  life  for  the  life 
of  her  newborn  child?  Why?  Only  the  holy 
God  can  tell,  and  it  will  take  eternity  for  him  to 
tell  us  why.  The  grain  of  wheat  can  answer, 
"I  must  die  if  fruit  is  to  live."  The  Saviour  of 
the  world  did  answer,  "The  good  shepherd  layeth 
down  his  life  for  the  sheep."  If  the  grain  of  wheat 
and  the  Lord  of  life  can  bear  testimony  to  the 
goodness  of  God  in  face  of  inevitable  death,  let 
me  find  myself  somewhere  between.  Let  me  lose 
my  life  in  him  and  I  will  find  it! 

0  tf)ou  h)l)0  bo£(t  multiplp  i}avbtit9i  in  t^e 
bping  grain!  ifflitbljolb  not  life  from  me.  tf)p 
tijilb,  tftrouglj  Tcsui  Ctjrist! 


AUGUST  FOURTEEN 


STotn  12:  27,  2S.   iSoto  i&  mv  goul  troublcb; 
anb  totat  gfjall  3  sap?    Jfatljcr.  sabe  mc  from 
tjjis  fjour.     ?@ut  for  tfjis  cause  came  3  unto  tijis 
Ijour.     jFatljer,  glorifp  tfjp  name.     ZEfjcrc  came 
therefore  a  boice  out  of  beaben,  saptng,  3  Ijabc 
faotj)  glorifieb  it,  anb  hiill  glorifp  it  again. 
<^ 
ESUS   trembled   before  the   impending  hour; 
but  his  trembhng  was  not  one  of  weakness  or 
of  rebelhon.     It  was  his  vahant  soul  adjusting 
itself  to  the  crisis  which  he  was  voluntarily 
to  undergo.     His  words  were  not  the  challenge  of 
cowardice    but   the    battle    cry    of    faith.     Jesus 
struggled  with  the  age-long  problem  of  sovereignty 
and  free  will.     He  settled  that  cjuestion  as  every 
devout  soul  has  done  by  finding  the  full  freedom 
of  his  will  in  loving  submission  to  the  perfect 
will  of  God. 

4^ 


J/ 


Jesus  triumphed  in  that  hour,  by  choosing  death 
that  he  might  destroy  it.  We  have  stripped  Cal- 
vary of  its  merit  and  have  defrauded  faith  of  its 
trophy,  if  we  consider  Jesus  as  One  going  to  his 
death  in  a  trance.  He  knew  and  deliberately 
chose  every  step  of  the  bitter  way. 

It  may  be  that  some  hour  of  trial  is  about  to 
strike  for  me.  Loss,  pain  and  failure  are  impending 
like  a  cloud  of  doom.  The  storm  thickens.  It 
breaks.  Well  for  me,  if  I  can  see  my  Father's 
face  and  feel  my  Father's  hand  and  hear  my 
Father's  voice! 

(Dur  jfatfjer,  (Sob!  licep  us  all  in  ebcrp  Ijour 
anb  glorifp  tijpself  in  us! 


AUGUST  FIFTEEN 


Sfofjn  12:  31.  i^oto  is  tf)c  jubgrnent  ot 
Ujis  toorlti:  noto  sfjall  tJ)c  prince  of  tijig  tuorlli 
be  cast  out. 

•^' 

UDGMENT  is  in  the  present  tense.  It  must 
be  so.  The  flight  of  the  years  neither  adds  to 
nor  takes  from  the  weight  of  judgment.  De- 
J/  ferred  judgment  is  a  sophistry  of  men  and  a 
He  of  the  Devil.  Judgment  is  now,  although  it 
still  seems  remote.  Organized  iniquity  flourishes. 
The  arrogant  evildoer  seems  to  prosper.  Is 
God  asleep?  Has  judgment  perished  from  the 
face  of  the  earth?  Listen  to  him  who  is  the 
spokesman  of  the  eternal  God.  "Now  is  the  judg- 
ment of  this  world!"  "Now,"  when  evil  seems  to 
flourish,  it  is  being  judged,  ceaselessly,  surely  and 
eternally;  "now,"  when  the  smoke  of  the  battle 
clears,  and  the  enemy  of  God  and  of  his  kingdom 
seems  more  securely  intrenched  behind  his  breast- 
works;   "now"  is  the  hour  of  judgment. 

There  are  those  who  whisper  when  they  speak 
of  the  judgments  of  God.  "Judgment  is  his 
strange  work,"  they  softly  say.  It  is  true,  but  it 
is  none  the  less  his  work.  The  Prince  of  this  world 
is  a  sentenced  criminal.  The  sentence  has  been 
confirmed  at  the  high  court  of  heaven — "Guilty 
of  treason  against  the  most  high  God."  Torday 
the  verdict,  to-morrow  the  scaffold! 

€>  tf)Ou  toljo  art  tfje  STubgc  of  all  tfje  eartf) 
anb  toljo  boest  rigftt!  P?elp  mc  to  bo  tljp  Ijolp 
boill  tl)i6  bap! 


AUGUST    SIXTEEN 


EToftn  12:   32.    9nb  3.  if  3  be  liftcb  up 
ftom  tbc  cartfj,  tuill  brato  all  men  unto  mpsclt. 

yf  IS  cross  is  the  magnetic  north  pole  of  the 
moral  universe.  If  He  had  not  been  up- 
lifted he  might  have  drawn  some  men  to 
himself.  His  winsome  words,  his  divine 
demeanor,  his  miracles  of  healing,  would  have  won 
the  hearts  of  many,  but  it  is  the  uplifted  Christ 
who  draws  all  men.  For  one  who  follows  him 
because  of  the  light  he  throws  upon  the  pathway 
of  human  conduct  and  upon  the  goal  of  human 
character,  there  are  a  thousand  who  come  to  his 
atoning  cross  for  reconciliation  and  peace.  Truly 
the  Son  of  Man  was  hfted  up,  far  above  all  domin- 
ions and  powers.  His  thorn-crowned  head  over- 
towers  the  ages;  his  pierced  hands  measure  and 
embrace  the  eternities  of  human  sin  and  human 
redemption;  his  riven  side  is  the  divine  "fountain 
for  sin  and  uncleanness."  "Hallelujah,  what  a 
Saviour!" 

I,  too,  must  hft  him  up  so  that  he  may  "draw 
all  men."  He  needs  no  modern  cross,  a  new 
symbol  of  his  sacrifice.  All  he  asks  of  me  is  that 
I  lift  him  up  in  daily  living,  so  that  men  may  see 
him  overmastering  me.  If  I  am  drawn  to  him, 
I  ought  also  to  be  the  medium  through  which  he 
may  draw  others  to  himself.  Would  that  this 
day  some  broken  soul  might  be  drawn  near  to  the 
healing,  helping  Saviour  through  me! 

©rain  me  nearer,  €>  tftou  uplifteb  Ctrifit, 
tljat  ttroust)  me  tf)ou  mapest  brata  otljcrs  near! 


AUGUST    SEVENTEEN 


f  ofjn  12:  36.  JBEftile  ^t  i)ab£  tlje  ligfyt,  bt- 
licbc  on  tijc  lisftt,  tjjat  pc  map  become  jfons  o£ 
listJt. 

'E  are  the  children  of  our  ideals.  We 
are  truly  begotten  of  the  things  we 
believe.  Jesus  was  admonishing  his 
disciples  to  believe  in  the  light  that 
they  might  become  its  sons.  There  are  sons  of 
darkness  and  there  are  sons  of  light.  The  Master 
himself  was  the  only  begotten  Son  of  light.  He 
gathered  together  into  his  own  heart  all  the  hered- 
itary tendencies  of  the  light  which  is  in  God.  He 
desired  to  be  the  "firstborn  among  many  breth- 
ren" and  therefore  called  upon  his  followers  to 
become  children  of  the  hght. 

What  does  it  mean  for  me?  This,  at  least;  to 
live  in  the  light  of  his  approval,  to  seek  to  know 
and  to  do  his  holy  will,  to  follow  after  the  perfect 
pattern  which  his  hfe  discloses,  to  give  indwelling 
to  his  Holy  Spirit,  who  gives  hght  within.  If  I 
would  walk  in  the  light  this  day,  I  must  carry 
the  light  within  my  heart.  My  pathway  will 
lie  through  the  midst  of  a  darkened  world  which 
has  no  light  for  itself,  let  alone  any  to  spare.  For 
my  soul's  sake  and  for  those  with  whom  I  may 
walk  to-day,  I  would  be  a  true  child  of  the  light, 
my  face  radiant  with  the  glory  of  life  and  immor- 
tality, which  Christ  has  brought  to  light  through 
his  gospel. 

ILigfjten  mp  e^ea,  ©  tfjou  hifjo  art  tbc  TLigfyt 
of  life,  tijat  II  map  boalb  in  no  barbnessc  at  all! 


AUGUST  EIGHTEEN 


3fof)n  12:  36.     Q::fje£fc  tljings:  fipabc  STefius, 
antJ  te  tiepartcti  anb  Jjib  timscU  from  tfjcm. 

LL  the  opposition  of  earth  and  hell  could 
not  hide  Him,  but  he  hid  himself.  They 
could  not  put  the  light  out,  but  he  could 
cease  to  shine  upon  them. 

There  is  a  ceaseless  mystery  about  the  move- 
ments of  Jesus  among  men.  Why  he  did  what  he 
did,  why  he  said  what  he  said  and  when  he  said  it, 
require  a  knowledge  of  his  motives  before  we 
dare  to  judge  his  methods. 

Jesus  "departed  and  hid  himself  from  them," 
partly,  no  doubt,  to  escape  their  premature  oppo- 
sition and  attack;  in  part  also,  to  prepare  himself 
for  that  more  bitter  and  final  contest  which  drew 
nearer  every  hour.  The  Master  did  not  burn 
his  candle  at  both  ends,  but  his  candle  burned 
brightly  while  his  earthly  life  lasted. 

Could  any  divine  judgment  be  more  dreadful 
than  that  which  would  sentence  us  to  be  forsaken 
of  Christ?     "My  Spirit  shall  not  strive  with  man 

for  ever"  is  the  word  of  God. 

-^' 

To-day  I  hear  the  Saviour's  voice.     God  forbid 

tluit  I  should  so  harden  my  heart  that  the  sound 

of  his  entreating  voice  and  the  sight  of  his  blessed 

face  should  fade  away  and  I  should  be  left  alone, 

without  God,  without  hope. 

-$^ 
^iijc  t\)v  fate,  0  (fiSob,  but  onlp  from  mp 
Kins!   ICift  up  t\)t  Itgljt  of  tbt'  countenance  upon 
me  anb  sibc  me  peace,  for  3fcgug'  gabc! 


A UGUST  NINETEEN 


3Iof)n  12:  43.    jFor  tijep  lobcb  tJjc  glorp  tfjat 
is  of  men  more  tfjan  tfje  glorp  tl)at  isi  of  <®ob.  ' 

''^HE  glory  of  God  is  the  lustrous  out- 
shining of  his  character,  his  wisdom, 
goodness  and  power.  It  cannot  be  put 
on  and  taken  off  hke  a  badge  or  a  garment. 


Circumstances  do  not  alter  it.  It  is  essentially 
and  eternally  his.  The  glory  of  men  is  that  which 
is  added  to  us  by  the  praise  and  honor  of  our 
fellows.  It  can  be  put  on  and  taken  off.  Cir- 
cumstances detract  from  it.  It  is  neither  essen- 
tially nor  eternally  ours. 

When  Jesus  appeared  among  men,  he  was 
adorned  with  the  glory  that  was  of  God  and  not 
of  men.  The  tragedy  was  that  many  who  believed 
on  him  did  not  confess  it  because  they  loved  the 
shadow  more  than  the  reality. 

The  same  tragedy  is  being  enacted  to-day. 
There  are  men  and  women  who  believe  in  their 
inmost  hearts  that  Jesus  is  the  Rarest  amon^  the 
sons  of  men;  and  who  may  even  believe  that  he  is 
the  Son  of  God,  but  who  will  not  confess  his  name 
because  they  love  the  passing  glory  of  men.  It 
behooves  me  to  ask  myself  most  searchingly 
whether  I,  too,  have  been  led  astray.  What  a  fool 
one  is  to  set  aside  the  glory  of  the  only  begotten 
Son  of  God,  for  the  pomp  of  Nineveh  and  Tyre 
that  passes  in  a  day! 

J^clp  tnc  to  ntabe  mp  cfjicf  tnt  to  glorifp 
tJjcc,  0  <©oli,  anb  to  cnjop  tljcc  forcber! 


AUGUST  TWENTY 


3Jof)n  13:  I.  Jlloii)  before  tfje  feast  of  tljc 
padsfoUec,  ^csui  bnotuing  tijat  tiia  tour  boast 
tome  tfjat  fte  sboulii  bcpart  out  of  ttiifi  toorlb 
unto  tlje  3Iatljer,  Ijabing  lobcb  tis  oton  tfjat 
lucre  in  tlje  tuorlti,  i)t  loUeD  tijem  unto  tije  enti. 


VT" 


\J 


YNTO  the  end"  or,  "to  the  uttermost," 
(margin).  In  either  case,  His  love  for 
his  own  was  measureless.  Whether  it 
be  the  end  of  the  days  or  the  extremity 
of  their  need,  his  love  went  beyond.  This  was 
his  preparation  for  death,  to  love  his  own  unto  the 
end.  To  begin  to  love  was  to  continue  to  love. 
There  is  a  wealth  of  comfort  for  any  troubled  soul 
when  it  leans  upon  the  sovereignty  of  divine  love. 
A  mother  might  abdicate  the  throne  of  her  love 
for  her  offspring,  but  the  Son  of  God,  never. 
Shadows  of  gloom  may  enshroud  his  pathway  but 
he  turns  in  the  very  blackest  hour  and  smiles  upon 
his  beloved. 

It  is  not  given  to  me  to  know  when  the  hour  is 

to  come  when  I  must  depart  out  of  the  world. 

This  much  I  may  know,  that  whenever  that  hour 

shall  come,  he  will  be  found  by  my  side.     He  knows 

the  meaning  of  grief  and  sorrow,  of  the  terror  of 

approaching  trial  and  condemnation.     He  is  still 

the  one  who  saves   "to  the  uttermost."     What 

limitless  love  is  that  which,   seeking  me  in  my 

sins  in  order  to  save  me  from  them,  follows  me 

all  the  way. 

*»• 

C5  lLo\}t  tijat  toilt  not  let  me  go, 
3  rest  mj>  toearj»  soul  in  tijee! 


AUGUST  rWENTY-ONE 


fo|)n  13:  3-5.  3Ics(us,  fenotoins  tfjat  tfjc 
Jfatljcr  Ijab  giUcn  all  tfjingg  into  Ijig  tjaniJs.  anb 
tl)at  be  came  fortf)  from  (Sob,  anb  goctt  unto  (Sob. 
rigetf)  from  gupper,  anb  lapct!)  asibe  Ijis  sar= 
ments;  anb  ftc  took  a  tobocl,  anb  girbcb  tjimsclf. 
3Cl)en  i)C  pouretf)  tuater  into  tfjc  basin,  anb  began 
to  tuasii)  tije  bisciplest'  feet,  anb  to  iuipe  ti)cm  toitt) 
tije  totoel  b)t)£ceb)itij  ije  taiag  girbeb. 

T  is  not   Christ's  humility  but  its   immediate 

setting  that  is  of  pecuhar  interest.     Altliough 

he  knew  that  he  came  from  God  and  went  to 

God,    he    assumed   the    place    of    the    most 

menial  servant.     If  the  Master  had  possessed  no 

self-consciousness  of  divine  glory,  even  then  the 

lesson  of  humility  would  have  been  well  taught. 

But  it  is  only  when  we  see  his  condescension  upon 

the  background  of  his  consciousness  of  his  eternal 

sonship  of  God,  that  his  humility  sheds  its  rarest 

luster. 

•^- 

The  knowledge  of  an  exalted  destiny  ought  not 
to  unfit  me  for  the  commonest  service.  It  is  no 
disgrace  to  have  my  hands  blackened  with  toil  in 
the  heat  of  the  day,  even  though  I  am  to  sit  at 
the  table  of  the  King  at  eventide.  The  clearer 
my  view  of  the  life  to  come,  the  more  genuine  and 
unselfish  will  be  my  service  here.  Abraham 
Lincoln's  favorite  verse,  "Oh,  why  should  the  spirit 
of  mortal  be  proud?"  echoes  in  my  heart.  God 
has  called  me  to  be  his  ministering  servant. 

<25  ifWaster!  31  tooulb  girb  mpself  for  un£(clf= 
ii\)  toil  tijig  passing  bap,  Uiittj  tfje  girble  of  tijp 
gelf-sacrifiting  lobcl 


AUGUST  TWENTY-TWO 

3Iof)n  13:  6,  7.     ^o  I)c  cometl)  to  ^imon 
l^cter.     l^t  «aitf)  unto  f)im,  ILorb,  liost  tJjou 
toaslj  mp  feet?   STestufi  anstoereti  anb  eaili  unto 
f)itn,  Sfflbat  3  bo  tljou  knoti)C£(t  ttot  nob);  but 
tljou  filjalt  unbcrstanb  Ijcreaftcr. 
«^ 
7HE  Master  came  to  Peter,  probably  in  his 
turn,  possibly  first  of  all.     In  the  latter 
event  it  was  in  order  that  he  might  meet 
his  most  serious  case  first.     The  Ober- 
ammergau  peasants  portray  this  scene  very  vividly 
and  Peter  is  set  forth  as  surprised,  mystified  and 
almost  overwhelmed.     Peter's  pride,  his  sense  of 
self-respect,  his  conventional  attitude  toward  life, 
his  regard  for  the  dignity  of  his  Master,  are  all 
disturbed.     This  is  the  beginning  of  Peter's  three- 
fold mood.     It  is   the   attitude  of   startled,   un- 
studied  inquiry.     He   does  not   resent   what   he 
does    not    understand;    he    neither    submits    nor 
rebels.    Jesus'  answer  was  provocative.    Peter  was 
not  the  sort  to  accept  it  graciously.     He  wanted 
no  insoluble  mysteries  hanging  over  his  head. 

It  is  hard  for  me  to  fathom  the  condescending 
kindness  of  my  Lord  and  Master.  There  are 
.many  loving  ministries  of  his  providence  which 
prompt  me  to  say,  "Lord,  dost  thou  truly  care  so 
much  for  me?"  Ah,  yes,  my  soul,  and  more! 
See  that  thine  inquiry  of  surprise  be  not  deepened 
into  refusal  and  rebellion! 

•$^ 
l^oto  manp  anb    ijoto  matbelousf  arc   tfjp 
mercies,  0  mj>  (Sob!   3fn  tfjc  mibst  of  tijcm  all 
31  finb  ttjp  lobe! 


AUGUST  TWENTY-THREE 

STotn  13:  8.  ^cter  gaib  unto  fjim,  ®fjou 
gtalt  ncbcr  tuasf)  mp  feet.  Sesus  anstocreb 
tint,  3f  3  taasi)  tijee  not,  tijou  fj^st  no  part  toiti) 
me. 

EVER"  is  a  long  word,  Peter!  Men 
say  it  in  haste  and  repent  at  leisure. 
We  may  be  sure  we  are  right,  but 
Jesus  has  his  rights  and  he  will  have 
his  way.  If  we  meet  the  issue  squarely  and  assert 
our  will  against  the  will  of  Christ,  there  is  only 
one  conclusion.  He  will  have  his  divine  way  but 
we  will  have  put  ourselves  out  of  the  scope  of  his 
blessing.     Is  Jesus  to  have  his  way  or  Peter  his? 

It  is  well  for  me  that  the  same  sort  of  challenge 
confronts  me.  Things  that  may  seem  as  trivial 
as  the  washing  of  one's  feet  contain  issues  that  are 
eternal.  The  abiding  question  is,  "Will  Jesus 
have  his  way  or  I  mine?"  He  makes  the  problem 
plain.  If  he  is  not  permitted  to  have  his  perfect 
sway  in  my  heart  and  life,  he  will  not  be  content 
to  have  a  subordinate  part.  He  wants  the  guest 
chamber  of  the  home,  the  first  fruits  of  the  field 
and  of  the  flock.  He  lovingly  demands  my  instant 
acceptance  of  his  whole  program  of  life.  Surely 
in  the  face  of  Peter's  misguided  boldness  I  will  not 
say  "never"  to  Christ.  Rather  let  my  answer 
be,  "Now  and  ever,  where  and  when  it  pleases 
thee!" 

Jforgibc  mp  foUp.  Horb!  jforbib  mp  tasflj 
tefugal  of  tljp  purpose!  Jfill  me  toitfj  tfjp 
totllins  Spirit! 


vr 


AUGUST  TWENTY-FOUR 

STofjn  13:  9,  10.  ^imott  3^tttt  saitfj  unto 
ijim,  ILortr,  not  mp  feet  onlp,  but  also  mp  ijaniig 
anb  mp  fjeab.  Slegus  gaitt)  to  fjim,  3^c  tfjat  ii 
batiyeb  neebetlj  not  fiabe  to  toasl)  ^i6  feet,  but  is 
clean  eberp  tntjit:  anti  pe  are  clean,  but  not  all. 

T  was  fearfully  hard  for  Peter  to  permit  the 
Master  to  have  his  own  unchallenged  way. 
Rather,  it  was  hard  for  Peter  not  to  have  his 
own  way.  He  was  not  consciously  rebelling 
against  Jesus,  but  was  indirectly  accomphshing 
the  same  end  by  asserting  the  supremacy  of  his 
own  will.  Peter  could  have  instantly  submitted 
to  Jesus  on  condition  that  the  latter  would  finally 
submit  to  him.  Such  a  compromise  was  im- 
possible. 

There  is  a  present,  pressing  peril  confronting 
me.  God's  requirements  may  be  simple,  direct, 
unmistakable.  He  knows  what  he  desires  of  me, 
and  so  do  I.  For  reasons  that  are  obvious  or 
veiled,  I  freely  offer  other  things;  money  in- 
stead of  self,  many  things  instead  of  the  one 
thing.  This  is  neither  well-pleasing  unto  him  nor 
profitable  for  me.  Well  and  good  if  I  am  eager 
"to  have  him  command  my  very  life  in  its  entirety; 
only  let  me  be  sure  that  I  do  not  offer  a  vague 
and  nominal  "all"  for  the  "one  thing"  he  desires 
and  has  a  right  to  have. 

€>  iJHaster,  map  3  pielb  to  tfjee  tljis  bap  toliat 
tf)ou  bost  besire  anb  toljat  tljou  tjast  commanbcb! 
fttap  3  bo  anb  gibe  anb  be  cxactlp  tofjat  tfjou 
bo£(t  asUI 


AUGUST  TWENTY-FIVE 


3Iobn  13:  15.  jFot  3  fjabe  giben  j>ou  an 
example,  tJjat  pe  alsio  sf)oulli  lio  ag  3  l)abe  tone 
to  pou. 

REASON  and  experience  vie  with  each 
other  in  paying  tribute  to  the  wisdom 
of  Jesus'  method.  Granted  that  his 
motives  were  beyond  question,  his 
method  was  equally  praiseworthy.  It  is  not 
merely  children,  but  men  and  women,  who  come 
under  the  power  of  his  example.  To  tell  one  what 
to  do  is  one  thing;  to  do  it  oneself  is  another. 
There  are  those  who  press  out  the  spirit  of  his 
example  and  leave  only  the  juiceless  pulp.  With 
a  great  show  of  piety  and  simplicity  they  go 
through  the  motions  of  Jesus  and  think  that  they 
have  fulfilled  his  purposes.  We  should  not  be 
above  such  a  menial  act,  when  duty  or  occasion 
demands  it,  but  the  Master's  example  cannot  be 
circumscribed  by  such  a  petty  circle. 

Next  to  my  need  of  pardon  and  of  fellowship  I 
have  no  immediate  demand  more  imperative  than 
that  of  a  holy  and  inspiring  example.  How 
immeasurably  beyond  my  power  of  reckoning 
Jesus  supplies  my  every  need!  Pardon  is  sealed 
in  him.  Fellowship  is  fulfilled  in  him.  He  is 
my  perfect  Exemplar.  I  would  walk  this  day  in 
his  holy  steps,  who  "went  about  doing  good." 

-$!€► 

JiJc  tf)ou  mp  pattern.  Horli  Slesus,  in  tfjougljt, 
toorb  anb  ticct)\  Mnv  tijp  Spirit  inspire  me  to 
bo  tfjp  toill,  for  tf)p  name's  saUe! 


AUGUST    TWENTY-SIX 


ETofin  13:    17.    M  pc  bnoto  tfjcfie  tijineif, 
hltnie'b  arc  pc  if  pe  bo  tfjem. 
-^■ 

'^OT  to  know,  is  deplorable:  to  know 
and  not  to  do,  is  irreparable.  If 
knowledge  lights  the  torch  which 
enables  one  to  see  his  pathway  in  the 
midst  of  the  darkness,  how  great  must  be  the  gloom 
of  him  who  refuses  to  light  his  torch  before  knowl- 
edge passes  by.  The  knowledge  of  the  will  of 
Christ  is  fundamental:  yet  there  is  more  to  be 
said.  The  most  unhappy  man  in  all  the  world  is 
he  who  does  not  live  up  to  his  light.  What  a  hell 
is  carried  in  the  breast  of  a  man,  who  shuts  up  his 
knowledge  of  God's  will  like  a  prisoner  in  a  dun- 
geon! There  is  a  positive  side,  however.  The 
man  who  seeks  to  do  Christ's  will  as  he  knows  it, 
falteringly,  partially  but  sincerely,  will  have  a 
wellspring  of  joy  within  his  heart. 

This  day,  it  may  be,  some  word  of  God  may 
fall  across  my  pathway  like  a  searchlight  upon  a 
darkened  way.  If  I  will  but  walk  in  the  light, 
I  will  have  that  peculiar  joy  within  my  heart, 
which  comes  when  truth  is  transformed  into  duty, 
"and  the  will  of  my  Master  into  my  meat  and 
drink.  Whether  this  day  be  arched  with  a  cloud- 
less, summer  sky  or  broken  by  wind  and  storm, 
may  every  ray  of  inner  light  mark  my  pilgrimage 
one  league  nearer  my  heavenly  home! 

ILotb,  3  tooull)  botf)  learn  anb  lobe  to  bo  tfjp 
tuill!  transform  butp  into  beligi)t  anb  scrbicc 
into  }oj>,  3  prap  tfjcci 


AUGUST  TWENTY-SEVEN 


3Iof)n  13:  21.  22.  TOiftcn  31  cms  ftab  ttjus 
gaib,  l)C  taas!  troubleb  in  tf)C  spirit,  antj  tcsti= 
fieb,  anil  saiti.  "^erilp.  berilp.  31  sfap  unto  pou, 
tJjat  one  of  pou  stall  bctrap  me.  Qtfjc  bisciples 
loofaeb  one 'on  another,  iioubtins  of  totjom  fjc 
gpafee. 


"^"^HE  first  one  upon  whom  to  look  is  one- 
self. There  is  no  profit  in  looking  around 
upon  others  if  I  have  not  settled  the 
matter  with  reference  to  myself.  In  the 
words  of  P.  Carnegie  Simpson,  "I  cannot  out  and 
out  condemn  others  without  Pharisaism,  but 
there  is  no  arrogance  in  judging  myself."  The 
starthng  news  which  Jesus  published  in  the  hearing 
of  his  disciples  brought  consternation  and  con- 
fusion. There  were  only  two  in  that  company 
who  did  not  seriously  doubt  of  whom  he  spake  — 
Jesus  and  Judas.  Jesus  knew  by  the  intimacy 
of  his  inspired  discernment.  He  fathomed  the 
abysmal  depths  of  a  traitor's  soul  and  shuddered 
as  he  looked  down,  down  into  that  horrible  .pit. 
Judas  knew  by  the  self-consciousness  of  his  own 
perfidy  that  Jesus  had  found  him  out. 

Jesus  still  stands  in  the  midst  of  his  professed 
followers  "sifting  out  the  souls  of  men."  Will 
he  have  any  occasion  to  look  upon  me  as  he  did 
upon  Judas  of  old?  May  every  holy  memory  of 
the  past  and  every  high  hope  of  the  future  con- 
spire to  keep  me  stedfast  to  the  end! 

0  ^abiour!  ILoob  upon  mc  in  lobe  to-bap 
anb  see  in  me  a  cfjilb  tobo  is  trusting  anb  peni= 
tent,  ebcn  tjjougt  untoortfjp. 


D 


AUGUST  TWENTY-EIGHT 


Slobn  13:  37,  38.  ^cter  saitf)  unto  Jjim, 
ILorb,  toljp  cannot  3  foUoto  tijce  cben  noiju?  3 
toill  lap  botun  mp  life  for  tfjcc.  STesug  an£itoct= 
ct|),  WiiU  ttjou  lap  bobon  tfjp  life  for  me?  "^erilp, 
berilp,  3  sap  unto  tfjee,  ©tje  cock  sfjall  not  croto, 
till  t^ou  tast  bcnicti  me  tljricc. 

ETER  was  sincere.  There  is  not  the  sHghtest 
intimation  in  the  record  of  Jesus'  deaUng 
with  him,  that  he  was  less  than  eager  to  do 
his  Master's  will.  He  would  willingly  have 
laid  down  his  life  for  his  Master  and  he  was  the 
only  one  of  Jesus'  followers  who  lifted  a  finger 
to  save  him,  yet,  in  but  a  moment,  he  was  to  deny 
his  Lord  with  cursing.  Sincerity  is  necessary 
but  it  is  not  enough.  We  may  be  ingloriously 
sincere,  by  building  our  confidence  upon  our  own 
worthiness.  The  most  subtle  pride  of  all  is  that 
which  is  proud  of  one's  humility.  So  the  most 
devout  follower  of  the  Master  is  not  free  from  the 
peril  of  overt  rebellion.  Every  one  of  us  needs 
to  pray,  in  the  words  of  the  psalmist,  "Keep  back 
thy  servant  also  from  presumptuous  sins." 

-^ 
As  I  embark  upon  the  voyage  of  this  day  I 
jieed  not  shout  to  everyone  upon  the  dock  or  to 
every  passing  craft, "  I  am  willing  to  die  for  Jesus!" 
Let  me  keep  that  message  for  the  Master's  ears 
alone.  Even  then  let  it  be  a  prayer  and  not  a 
boast! 

€>  Xorb!  J^elp  mc  to  lap  boton  mp  life  for  tfiee 
tl)ig  bap  in  tljat  Ijumfale,  patient  serbice,  toljicf) 
.    facfits  one  toljo  ifae  been  gabeb  fap  grace! 


AUGUST  TWENTY-NINE 


^Toljn  14:  I.    ILtt  not  pour  Ijeatt  be  troufalcb: 
beliebe  in  <@ob,  beliebe  algo  in  me. 


M 


"^  /fORE  tears  have  been  wiped  away  at 
the  sight  and  the  sound  of  this  verse 
than  of  any  other  word  ever  written 
or  spoken.  Popular  fiction  has  its  day; 
works  of  science  are  read  for  a  few  years,  until 
they  become  out  of  date:  philosophical  libraries 
are  always  taking  out  old  treatises  and  putting 
in  new  ones.  In  the  midst  of  the  few  fragments 
of  truth  that  have  survived  the  ravages  of  the 
years,  this  simple,  hortative  word  of  Jesus  shines 
with  undiminished  luster.  The  fires  of  criticism 
have  not  destroyed  or  even  dulled  it,  for  there  is 
no  dross  in  it.     It  is  pure  gold. 

■  There  is  only  one  test  for  such  a  truth.  In 
the  words  of  the  theme  of  a  sermon  delivered  by 
Dr.  Jowett  in  Fifth  Avenue  Church,  "Try  it!" 
This  is  an  example  of  what  men  to-day  are  calling 
"Pragmatism"  in  philosophy.  It  is  the  theory 
that  the  truth  of  anything  may  be  tested  by 
trying  it.  We  part  company  with  the  popular 
philosophy  of  the  day  in  that  we  do  not  make  our 
test  of  truth  its  final  test.  We  know  that  it  is 
true  because  we  have  tried  it,  but  it  is  not  true 
merely  because  we  have  tried  it. 

0  (Sob  of  all  comfort!  <S5ibe  me  plenteous 
grace  for  tijc  trials  of  tl)i£f  passing  bap.  anb  an 
untroufalcb  bcart  in  tIjc  mibst  of  ctjcrptfjing.  for 
SFesus*  sabel 


AUGUST  THIRTY 


^loJjn  14:  2.  3n  tnp  jFatljer'si  fjougc  arc 
tnanp  mansions;  if  it  tDcre  not  go,  3  tooulli 
Ijatjc  tolti  pou. 

4^ 


=^HE  Father's   house  is  roomy.     There  is 

nothing    about    it    that    is    cramped    or 

crowded.     There  is  room  for  all,  and  a 

room  for  each.     If  the  Father's   house 

were  only  blank,   dark,   infinity;  with   no    light, 

no  warmth,  no  fife,  Jesus  would  have  told  them, 

sad  as  the  truth  would  have  been.     How  different 

was  the  truth  he  did  tell!     Instead  of  the  infinite 

recesses  of  space    "which   ever  has  existed   and 

ever  must  exist,"  and  which  produced  in  Herbert 

Spencer,  to  quote  his  last  published   words,    "a 

feeling  from   which  (he)  shrank,"   the   Christian 

looks  out  into  a  living  universe,  ablaze  with  the 

glory  of  God. 

-^ 

What  sort  of  universe  is  that  into  which  I  shall 
enter  this  day?  Is  it  one  of  vastness  and  im- 
mensity, of  blind  law  and  resistless  force?  Happy 
for  me  if  I  have  heard  and  have  believed  Jesus' 
secret,  told  first  to  his  disciples  of  old.  The  uni- 
verse is  my  Father's  house.  "Surely  goodness 
■and  loving-kindness  shall  follow  me  all  the  days 
of  my  life"  and  in  a  beautiful  paraphrase  of  that 
ancient  Psalm,  "my  home-coming  shall  be  to  my 
Father's  house  forever!" 

Jfatter  (^ob!.  %tt  ttc  elorp  of  ttjp  tjcabcnlp 
f)omc  appear  before  mp  toearp  epes  to=bap  axxij 
mabc  me  glab  tfjat  tfjcrc  are  manp  mansions  in 
tijinc  eternal  fjousel 


AUGUST    THIRTY-ONE 


5ot)n  14:  2,  3.  jFor  3  go  to  prepare  a 
plate  for  pou.  SInb  if  3  go  anb  prepare  a 
plate  for  pou,  3  tome  again,  anb  tuill  reteibe 
pou  unto  mpself;  tljat  tofjcre  3  am,  ttere  pc 
map  be  also. 

4JS^ 


7  HERE  is  nothing  abstract,  mysterious  or 
incredible  about  this  promise  of  Jesus. 
As  a  matter  of  fact  it  is  profoundly  simple, 
the  veritable  solution  of  the  mystery 
of  immortality  and  the  eternal  wedlock  of  faith 
and  reason.  If  there  be  a  God,  if  the  universe 
is  his  home,  if  we  are  his  children,  if  Jesus  Christ 
was  and  is  his  well-beloved  Son,  then  the  truth  of 
this  Scripture  follows  as  inevitably  as  the  night 
the  day. 

There  is  a  forceful  human  illustration.  The 
father  of  a  family  in  some  foreign  country  migrates 
to  the  new  land,  leaving  his  household  behind.. 
He  sends  back  assurances  of  his  continued  care  and 
love  and  at  last  sends  or  comes  back  himself  to 
take  them  all  to  the  place  he  has  prepared  for 
them.  Jesus  has  promised,  and  Jesus  will  do  all 
of  this  for  his  own.  He  is  even  now  preparing  a 
place  in  the  Father's  house  for  every  one  of  us. 
I  cannot  occupy  the  place  of  any  other  and  no  one 
can  crowd  me  out  of  mine.  Best  of  all,  my  Lord 
and  Saviour  will  return  to  receive  me  to  himself, 
that  where  he  is,  there  I  may  be  also. 

Come,  Itorb  STcgus:,  in  tfjine  oton  goob  time, 
anb  reteibe  tfjc  Ijomagc  of  tbp  toaiting  anb 
tnattijing  bidtipleset 


SEPTEMBER    ONE 


HJotn  14:  5.  tKjjomasf  fiaitlj  unto  fjim,  ICotb, 
toe  bnoU)  not  b]i)ttijec  ttjou  Qoc£(t;  tjoiu  bnoba  U)e 
tftc  toaj»? 

'HOMAS  was  forging  fetters  of  doubt 
with  wliich  to  bind  his  own  feet.  He  did 
not  know  where,  tlierefore  he  could  not 
know  how.     This  is  logically,  geographi- 


cally plausible.  The  man  who  does  not  know 
where  Honolulu  is,  or  the  Azores,  will  scarcely 
know  the  way  to  such  a  place.  Thomas  was  tech- 
nically right,  but  fundamentally  wrong.  What  he 
needed  was  not  a  satisfied  sense  of  location  but  the 
consciousness  of  trust  in  One  who  knew  both 
where  and  how. 

Thomas  is  not  alone  in  his  quest  of  the  way. 
My  own  attitude  toward  existence  and  its  prob- 
lems, toward  destiny,  the  whither  and  the  how  of 
the  soul,  toward  God  and  his  Son  Jesus  Christ, 
may  be  like  that  of  Thomas.  My  exacting  in- 
tellect may  constantly  torment  me  with  respect 
to  every  affirmation  of  faith,  "How  can  I  know?" 
The  only  source  of  light  is  that  which  Thomas 
sought  in  his  bhndness,  the  hght  that  is  in 
Jesus.  Uncertain  as  this  doubting  disciple  was 
of  himself  and  of  many  things  else,  he  was  truly 
trustful  of  Jesus.  He  brought  his  doubts  to  the 
Saviour.  I  will  bring  mine  there  and  leave  them 
there. 

**• 

0  tfjou  tofjo  bibgt  come  to  get  men  free  from 
tte  faonbage  of  boubt!  I^clcagc  me  from  all  tJje 
fetters  tf)at  binb  me  anb  mabe  me  free  inbccb! 


SEPTEMBER    TWO 


3folbn  14:  6.  3ti\xi  gaitt)  unto  ijim,  3  am 
tt)e  toiap,  ant)  tfie  tcuti),  anti  tbe  life. 

AM  the  way."  Here  is  guidance,  progress, 
security  and  peace!  We  cannot  possibly 
go  astray  when  we  walk  with  him.  Science 
may  say,  "I  am  the  way";  but,  after  all, 
it  is  only  an  intricate  network  of  paths  that 
twist  and  turn.  Philosophy  may  affirm,  "I 
am  the  way,"  but  it  is  not  the  way  upon  which 
the  unlearned  and  the  simple  may  walk.  Jesus 
alone  can  declare,  "I  am  the  way,"  and  verify 
his  assertion  to  the  experience  of  everyone  who  will 
take  him  at  his  word.  "I  am  the  truth."  The 
world  is  always  asking  through  Pilate,  "What  is 
truth?"  and  God  is  always  answering  through 
Jesus,  "I  am  the  truth."  The  scattered  frag- 
ments of  reality  are  gathered  up  by  him  in  the 
bundle  of  his  own  personahty.  He  is  the  truth. 
"I  am  the  hfe."  This  is  the  end  of  the  way, 
the  triumph  of  the  truth.  It  is  either  the  sheej-est 
presumption  ever  clothed  with  utterance  or  it  is 
absolute  verity.  He  is  either  the  eternal  life  of 
God  manifested  among  men  or  else  he  is  the  liar 
of  the  ages! 

Seasons  may  come  and  go,  the  years,  the  months 
and  the  days  fade  into  the  eternity  past,  but  he  is 
the  same  yesterday,  to-day  and  forever  —  Jesus, 
the  Way,  the  Truth  and  the  Life. 

praise  <^oti  for  tfje  abunbant  rcbclation  of 
fjimsdf  Ije  fjas  jjibcn  mc,  in  3fcsus  Cfjtist,  tfje 
snap,  tijc  ^rutlj  anb  ttje  Htfe! 


SEPTEMBER    THREE 


3Fof)n    14:  6.     iSo    one    comctfj    unto   tfjc 
Jfatfjcr,  but  fap  me. 

•^• 

UPPOSE  that  one  could  come  in  some  other 
way,  what  would  he  fmd?  Would  he  have 
a  satisfying  vision  of  God's  fatherhood? 
How  could  he  without  the  revelation  of  the 
filial  relationship  of  Jesus  which  interprets  the 
divine  fatherhood?  Neither  could  he  fathom  or 
even  penetrate  the  heart  of  divine  goodness  since 
his  heart  has  been  closed  to  the  revelation  of  that 
goodness  in  Jesus  Christ.  The  only  Father  God, 
revealed  to  men  and  worthy  of  their  trust  and 
reverence,  is  the  one  embodied  in  Jesus  Christ. 
Jesus  stands  and  knocks  at  the  door  of  every 
human  heart  and  cries,  "Open,  0  child  of  God,  and 
the  Father  and  I  will  come  in  and  sup  with  thee!" 

"^- 
I  must  come  to  the  Father  at  the  threshold  of 
this  new  day.  I  must  learn  his  will  for  me  and 
submit  my  will  to  his.  It  will  be  altogether  vain 
for  me  to  come  through  any  other  than  through 
Christ.  Prophets,  apostles,  saints  and  martyrs 
throng  the  royal  way  to  the  King,  but  they  are 
not  the  way.  They  only  walk  upon  it.  It  will 
'be  supremely  unworthy  for  me  to  come  in  my  own 
worthiness.  Will  the  Father  be  well  pleased  to 
have  me  spurn  the  invitation  and  the  access  of  the 
only  begotten  Son,  whom  he  hath  ordained  heir 
of  all  things?  I  will  come  to  the  Father  to-day, 
through    him. 

0  Jfatf)et!   3  tome  unto  tijec  tfjtougi)  tfjp 
fcoelMiclobeli  son.  mp  ^abiourl 


SEPTEMBER   FOUR 


STofjn  14:  8.    ^fjilip  gaitij  unto  Ijim,  ILot'b, 
KljotD  us  tfje  Jfatf)cr,  anli  it  fiufficctf)  u«. 

HILIP  made  no  mistake.  He  asked  for 
enough  to  satisfy  himself  and  every  dis- 
ciple. He  voiced  a  universal  truth,  which 
otherwise  stated,  is  this:    "It  takes  all  of 


D 


God  to  satisfy  any  seeking  soul."  Who  would 
not  be  satisfied  if  the  Father  could  be  shown  to 
him  in  all  his  divine  fullness?  Agnosticism  says: 
"Give  up  your  search,  Phihp!  Even  if  there 
should  be  a  Father,  which  is  altogether  doubtful, 
you  will  never  know  it  and  you  can  never  know 
him!"  Deism  says:  "Yonder,  upon  a  far-away 
throne,  as  remote  from  his  creatures  as  ever  a 
hereditary  sovereign  has  been  separated  from  his 
humblest  vassals,  is  your  God.  Tyrant  and 
despot  he  may  be;  to  call  him  Father  is  prepos- 
terous presumption!"  Pantheism,  whether  his- 
toric in  the  ancient  creeds  or  modern  in  hybrid 
Christian  Science,  says:  "Here  is  the  Father, 
Phihp!  He  is  the  All  in  all,  the  ever-adorable 
Essence  stripped  of  all  personality,  for  God  is  not 
a  person.  God  is  the  universal  whole,  the  eternal 
idea  of  truth  and  goodness."  If  such  answers 
had  satisfied  Philip  he  would  never  have  come  to 
Jesus.     If  they  satisfied  men   to-day,  the  world 

would  feel  no  need  of  Jesus. 

•^^ 

I  turn  to  Jesus  again,  to-day.     He  shows  me 

the  loving  Father.     It  sufficeth  me. 

tCljou  tjast  sljoton    me  tljpsfcU    in    "Seaui 
Cfjrisit,  0  Jfatljcr,  anb  3  am  gatisficb! 


SEPTEMBER   FIVE 


3lat)n  14:  9.  5esus!  gaitfj  unto  ifiin,  J^abc 
31  been  go  long  time  baitlj  pou,  anb  boat  tijou  not 
knob)  me,  ^Ijilip?  tjc  ttjat  fjatlj  seen  me  fjati) 
gecn  tfje  Jfatljcr;  Ijoto  sapcst  tljou,  ^Ijoto  us  tfjc 
Jfatfjcc? 

INETEEN  centuries  have  gone  and  the 
wonder  does  not  cease.  He  has  been 
"so  long  time"  with  us,  and  yet  we 
have  not  known  liim !  His  precepts  and 
his  principles  were  never  truer  than  to-day,  and 
yet  the  fulfilhnent  of  them  seems  so  remote.  The 
ideals  of  his  kingdom  were  never  more  glorious 
than  they  are  to-day.  They  are  the  despair  of 
evil  and  the  hope  of  righteousness:  yet  their  reali- 
zation seems  to  tarry.  We  are  still  "foohsh  men, 
and  slow  of  heart  to  believe." 

There  is  only  one  open  course  for  me,  and  that 
is  to  take  my  stand  with  those  who  believe  that  he 
is  in  the  Father  and  the  Father  in  him.  Inde- 
cision spells  doubt,  and  continued  doubt  spells 
doom  for  one  who  will  not  look  upon  the  light, 
when  it  is  shining.  I  may  not  know  all  mysteries 
and  I  need  not.  All  that  I  need  to  know  and 
'to  do,  is  to  believe  on  the  Son  of  God. 

"Then  shall  all  bondage  cease, 
All  fetters  fall; 
And  I  shall  fmd  my  peace, 
My  All  in  all." 

jForfaib.  0  (fiSob,  tljat  HIcgus!  gfjoulb  be  an  un^ 
fenoton  ^abiour!  iflap  Ije  rcbeal  tijce  eberp  bap! 


SEPTEMBER   SIX 


SFotn  14:  12.  '^txilp.  betilp.  3  sap  unto 
{)ou,  ^t  ttat  beliebetl)  on  mc,  ttjc  toocksf  ttjat 
3  bo  gfjall  l)c  bo  also;  anb  greater  toorfag  tfjan 
ti}tit  6\)all  i)t  bo;  faccause  3  go  unto  tfjc  Jfattjer. 

'^■ 
'HEY  are  "greater  works"  because  of  his 
atoning  cross   and   his   open   tomb;    be- 
cause of  the  Comforter  whom  he  has  sent, 
and  because  of  his  own  ministry  of  inter- 


cession at  the  right  hand  of  God.  They  are 
greater  not  because  they  are  apart  from  him  but 
because  his  spirit  more  abundantly  enters  into 
them.  The  "greater  works"  are  Pentecost,  and 
the  Holy  CathoUc  Church,  and  the  coming  of  the 
kingdom  of  God. 

"  If  Jesus  came  to  my  city,  my  home,  my  heart, 
what  would  he  do  and  what  would  others  do?" 
is  a  plausible  question  often  asked.  Our  only 
means  of  judging  is  by  what  he  did  and  by  what 
men  did.  Many  would  reject  him  and  some 
would  want  to  crucify  him.  He  would  preach 
no  new  gospel,  no  other  gospel.  He  has  committed 
unto  his  disciples  his  "greater  works."  Many 
have  already  been  done.  Some  were  wrought  in 
the  day  of  the. apostles;  some  in  martyrdom  and 
conflict;  some  in  crusades  and  conquests;  in 
reformations  and  revivals;  some  in  the  personal 
lives  of  his  humblest  followers;  and  some  remain 
yet  to  be  done.  If  they  are  "greater  works"  they 
must  be  his  works.     Let  me  work,  too! 

Hifdp  mc  to  bo  tljc  "  greater  fcoorbs,"  <9  (Sob, 
•    for  tf)j>  greater  glorp! 


SEPTEMBER    SEVEN 


3Iol)n  14:  16.  ainb  3  toill  prap  tfjc  Jfatfjcr, 
ant)  fjc  sball  eiiJe  pou  anotljec  Comfottct,  tfjat 
tc  map  be  toitf)  pou  for  cbcr. 

•^' 
'HIS  is  Jesus'  first  promise  of  the  Paraclete, 
"another     Comforter."       Three     other 
promises  follow,  in  this  and  in  succeed- 
ing  chapters,    each   one   adding   to   the 


Holy  Spirit's  intimacy  with  Christ.  In  this  first 
assurance  of  the  Holy  Spirit's  coming,  Jesus  made 
his  appearing  subject  to  his  own  prayer  to  the 
Father.  That  prayer  was  uttered  in  the  anguish 
of  Gethsemane  and  in  the  agony  of  Calvary.  It 
did  not  cease  with  the  days  of  his  flesh  but  be- 
came the  burden  of  his  intercession  when  he 
ascended  up  on  high,  and  lavished  his  ascension 
trophies  upon  his  Church.  Jesus  not  only  inter- 
ceded to  identify  the  Comforter  with  himself,  but 
to  distinguish  him  from  all  others. 

«^- 
With  what  insignificant  concerns  do  I  approach 
the  loving  Father!  Yet  he  has  bidden  me  come 
with  the  need  that  is  least  and  the  care  that  is 
most  trivial.  He  has  also  made  it  plain  that  he 
is  more  wilHng  to  give  his  best  gift,  even  the  Holy 
Spirit,  than  earthly  parents  are  to  give  good  gifts 
to  their  children.  The  Comforter  is  my  com- 
panion to-day.  It  behooves  me  to  recognize  his 
guiding  hand,  to  follow  his  whispered  counsel, 
to  enter  into  his  personal  fellowship,  which  is  the 

fellowship  of  God  himself. 

^^ 
J^olp  Spirit  of  (§ob!  ^t  tfjou  mp  Comforter 
anb  <@uitie! 


SEPTEMBER    EIGHT 


3Jof)n  14:  18.  31  taill  not  Icabe  pou  befio- 
latc:  31  come  unto  pou. 

ITERALLY,  "orphans."  He  would  not 
leave  them  orphans.  Their  dependence 
I  upon  him  had  been  so  complete  that 
-^=^  without  him  they  would  become  almost 
as  defenseless  as  fatherless  children.  He  had 
taken  them  away  from  their  accustomed  pursuits 
and  from  their  means  of  livehhood.  In  but  a 
brief  hour,  desolation  came  upon  them  and  they 
were  left  comfortless.  It  was  not  long  until  he 
did  fulfill  his  promise.  He  passed  through  closed 
doors;  and,  what  was  harder  to  do,  through  the 
barrier  of  unbelieving  hearts.  He  came  unto 
them. 

This  promise  of  the  Master  is  binding  until 
it  is  repealed.  He  is  still  the  hope  of  the  lonely 
soul  and  the  comfort  of  those  who  have  been  left 
desolate.  Grief  and  care  that  are  eating  at  my 
heart  will  be  swallowed  up  of  joy  as  he  fu-lfills 
his  precious  promise  to  come  unto  me.  No  doubt 
there  may  dawn  a  day,  it  may  be  this  very  one, 
when,  like  the  disciples  of  old,  I  may  seem  to  be 
forsaken,  even  of  my  Master.  Faint  not,  0  soul 
of  mine!  He  will  not  leave  me  like  an  abandoned 
orphan  upon  the  cold  doorstep  of  fate:  he  will 
come  unto  me.  He  has  come  unto  me.  I  will 
therefore  come  unto  him  anew. 

0  tf)ou  tofjo  bost  ncber  Icabc  t^p  people  be£(o= 
late!  Brato  me  closer  to  tfjpself,  tf)roug|)  tf)P 
3^olp  g>pirit! 


SEPTEMBER   NINE 


STofjn  14:  21.  l^t  tfjat  fjatfj  mp  commanb- 
ments.  anb  feccpctfj  tfjem,  fjc  it  is  tijat  lobcHj 
mc:  anb  tje  tf)at  loUctfj  me  sljall  be  lobeb  of  mp 
Jfatfjcr.  anb  3  toiU  lobe  Ijim,  anb  toill  manifest 
mPBclf  unto  fjim. 


===7'HIS  text  is  like  the  unfolding  of  a  perfect 
flower.  First,  the  having  and  the  keep- 
ing of  Christ's  commandments;  then, 
loving  him  and  being  loved  by  his  Father; 
and  at  last,  being  loved  by  him  and  becoming 
the  object  of  his  self-revelation.  It  is  not  ours 
to  fashion  the  perfect  flower.  That  is  the  work 
of  the  divine  Creator  himself.  Our  part  is  to 
have  and  to  keep  his  commandments.  Jesus, 
over  and  over  again,  put  obedience  to  his  will  at 
the  forefront  of  his  requirements. 

-^- 
There  is  no  duty  half  so  plain  as  that  of  keeping 
the  commandments  of  Christ.  If  my  faith  has 
fed  itself  upon  folly,  and  fancies  that  it  can  live 
and  thrive  by  its  own  processes,  disaster  will 
surely  follow.  There  is  only  one  meat  and  drink 
for  the  follower  of  the  Master.  There  is  only  one 
royal  way  to  the  love  of  God  in  all  its  fullness. 
There  is  only  one  key  to  the  secret  of  the  Lord. 
That  food  for  the  soul,  that  way  to  divine  love, 
that  opening  key,  is  none  other  than  implicit 
obedience  to  the  will  of  Christ,  whose  command- 
ments we  have.  I  would  be  true  to  my  trust, 
to-day,  and  keep  without  rebuke  his  divine  com- 
mandments. 

^\\yt  mc.  0  (f)ob,  an  obcbicnt  ftcart,  tfjat  3 
map  be  toeU=plcasing  unto  tfjec! 


SEPTEMBER    TEN 


ITofjn  14:  22.  SJutiag  ( not  Hffitariot )  gairtj 
unto  tim,  ICocb,  faotat  \&  come  to  pas£(  tbat  ttou 
faoilt  manifesft  tt)pgelf  unto  wi,  anb  not  unto  ttje 

tDOtlb? 

===i^HIS  Judas,  unlike  the  notorious  one  of  the 
same  name,  was  not  guilty  of  treason, 
but  of  stupidity.  How  could  Jesus  re- 
veal   himself   to    the  unbelieving   world 


when  he  had  such  trouble  in  making  himself 
known  to  those  who  did  believe  in  him?  If  those 
who  had  imbibed  a  measure  of  his  spirit  could  not 
begin  to  fathom  the  depth  of  his  purpose,  how 
could  those  who  had  closed  their  hearts  to  his 
appeal  for  beginners  in  his  school  become  enlight- 
ened? Judas  erred  in  his  conception  of  the  purpose 
of  revelation.  That  purpose  is  to  unfold  to  a  devout 
and  seeking  soul,  the  truth  which  is  hidden  from 
the  self-satisfied  and  rebellious.  Revelation  is 
a  microscope  or  a  telescope  to  bring  into  the  field 
of  vision  things  hidden  or  far  away.  The  micro- 
scope and  the  telescope  are  of  no  use,  unless  they 
are  used  by  a  discerning  eye. 

What  of  this  day?  Just  this,  that  Jesus  Christ 
is  eager  to  reveal  himself  to  "whomsoever  will," 
to  rich  and  poor,  to  wise  and  foolish,  even  to  me. 
If  I  would  receive  his  manifested  love  and  power, 
I  must  become  and  continue  to  be  his  faithful 
disciple. 

0  <^ob  of  tijp  people!   l^cbeal  tljpscU  to  me 
as  one  tuljo  earnesitlp  seebs  tljee  tbrouglj  Jeaufi 


SEPTEMBER   ELEVEN 


3Iof)n  14:  23.  STcsiusi  ansboereb  anb  «aib 
unto  tjim,  M  a  man  lobe  me,  Ije  toill  beep  mp 
toorb:  anb  mp  Jfatfjer  toill  lobe  Ijtm,  anb  toe 
toill  come  unto  tint,  anb  make  ouc  abobe  toiti) 
Ijim. 

41^ 


"=^HE  promise  of  this  text  is  peculiarly  per- 
plexing. How  can  the  Father,  who  is 
upon  the  eternal  throne,  and  the  Son, 
who  is  seated  at  his  right  hand,  come  and 
abide  with  us?  The  mystery  deepens  with  every 
thought  of  it,  until  it  disappears  with  the  ap- 
pearance of  the  other  Comforter  whom  Jesus  was 
soon  to  send.  We  do  not  need  to  fathom  all  trini- 
tarian  distinctions  in  order  to  understand  that 
the  Father  and  the  Son  do  abide  in  our  hearts 
through  the  Spirit  whom  they  send. 

-^^ 
If  I  spend  all  my  time  thinking  about  the 
mystery  of  this  truth,  however,  I  will  lose  its 
message.  There  is  no  other  blessing  that  we 
need  half  so  constantly  as  the  blessing  of  his  abid- 
ing presence.  We  may  be  wilHng  to  say  "Come" 
to  many  acquaintances  because  we  dare  also  to 
say  "Go."  When  we  once  say  "Come"  to  Jesus 
it  means,  "Come  to  stay!"  What  matters  it 
where  I  live,  in  city  or  in  country:  in  a  mansion 
or  in  a  hall  bedroom?  He  has  promised  to  abide 
with  me:  he  does  abide  with  me;  "and  so  we 
dwell  together,  my  Lord  and  I." 

afaibc  toitf)  me,  tljou  libing  anb  eternal  <§ob, 
in  tte  person  of  tljp  K^olp  Spirit  anb  for 
STcsus'  sake! 


SEPTEMBER    TWELVE 


lotn  14:  26.    ?@ut  tfje  Comforter,  cbcn  tfjc 

l^tiX^  Spirit,  tofjom  t\)t  :^aUjer  toill  genb  in  mp 

name,  fje  Sball  teacf)  pou  all  tfjingsf,  anb  bring 

to  pour  remembrance  all  tijat  3  saib  unto  pou. 

-^^ 

^^HE  second  of  four  classic  words  of  Jesus 
concerning  the  Holy  Spirit  is  written 
here.     Five  days  ago  we  read  his  promise 


■^  to  pray  the  Father  that  he  should  give  to 
us  another  Comforter.  To-day  we  are  inspired 
by  a  heightening  tone  of  assurance,  as  Jesus  an- 
nounces the  Holy  Spirit  whom  the  Father  will 
send  in  his  name.  Jesus  knew  that  his  disciples 
needed  a  teaching  Spirit.  Truth  requires,  not 
merely  to  be  announced,  but  taught.  The  Master 
was  their  Teacher:  he  intended  to  leave  them 
provided  for  with  a  teacher  of  his  own  choosing. 
What  exalted  assurance  he  had,  to  make  himself 
the  subject  of  all  the  Spirit's  teaching  and  of  their 
learning.  Yet  we  can  never  exhaust  the  fullnessi 
of  the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus. 

The  supreme  work  of  the  Holy  Spirit  is  to  re- 
veal the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  to  human  hearts.  If 
the  Comforter  is  to  bring  Jesus'  words  to  my 
remembrance  I  must  read  his  words.  Let  me  be 
one  to-day,  who,  with  unveiled  face,  looks  upon  the 
Lord  Jesus  Christ  in  the  Holy  Word  I  Then  the 
Spirit  of  all  truth  will  illumine  his  own  Word  and 
show  me  God's  glory  in  the  face  of  the  only  be- 
gotten of  the  Father,  who  is  full  of  grace  and  truth. 

#  Jfatfjer!   ^cnb  tljp  J&olp  Spirit  into  mp 
fjcart  aneto,  (or  tijp  ^on'S  sabe! 


SEPTEMBER    THIRTEEN 


3Fot)n  14:  27.  ^eatc  3  Icabe  toitf)  pou;  mp 
peace  21  gibe  unto  pou:  not  afi  tJje  tootllj  5il)= 
etf),  gibe  31  unto  pou.  ILct  not  pour  Ijeart  be 
ttoubleb,  neitfjet  let  it  be  fearful. 

-^ 
jHRIST  promised  his  peace  as  an  unre- 
stricted legacy  and  offered  it  as  an  uncon- 
ditional gift.  Legacies  are  what  we  give 
by  leaving.  They  represent  the  steward- 
ship of  our  capital;  and  are  entered  in  the  book 
of  our  final  accounting,  which  must  be  handed 
in  to  God.  We  sometimes,  wisely  and  otherwise, 
restrict  our  legacies  with  conditions  that  limit 
their  scope  and  their  fruitfulness.  Jesus  was 
perfectly  ready  to  leave  to  his  disciples  the  un- 
restricted legacy  of  his  peace.  They  might  use 
it  all,  but  by  a  strange  secret  of  love,  they  would 
have  the  more.  They  might  impart  it  to  others 
and  still  they  would  have  no  less  for  themselves. 
The  Master  not  alone  promised  his  peace,  but  he 
gave  it  outright.  He  did  not  tie  it  up  with 
exacting  conditions.  He  only  demanded  that  his 
gift  should  be  as  freely  received  as  it  was  offered. 

In  a  day  when  men  are  seeking  profitable  in- 
vestments, what  fault  can  I  find  with  the  legacy 
of  Christ's  peace  upon  which  there  is  no  collateral 
inheritance  tax,  and  the  gold  bonds  of  his  gift  of 
peace  upon  which  there  is  no  income  tax,  the 
dividends  upon  both  of  which  are  glorious  and 
eternal?  Peace,  perfect  peace,  is  the  legacy  and 
the  gift  of  Christ! 

<2^  ti)ou  tai^o  tagt  promisfeti  peace!  Jfulfill 
tf)p  hjorb  tijis  tiap  to  me! 


SEPTEMBER   FOURTEEN 


ETofjn  14:  28.  gc  tjearb  fjotu  3  fiaib  to  pou, 
3  go  atoap,  anti  3  tome  unto  pou.  3f  pe  lobeb 
mc,  pc  tooulb  tabc  rcjoiceb,  because  3  go  unto 
tijc  ifa{))tx:  iax  tJ)c  Jfatljer  is  greater  tj)an  3. 

'^ESUS  was  exacting.  He  never  consulted  the 
ease  of  his  disciples  or  put  a  premium  upon 
their  feelings.  He  was  never  guilty  of  toning 
JJ  down  his  ideals  to  meet  their  achievements. 
He  had  uprooted  self-pity  from  his  own  heart 
before  its  seeds  had  taken  lodgment,  therefore 
he  did  not  intend  to  cultivate  the  noxious  weed 
in  the  lives  of  his  followers,  "If  ye  loved  me, 
ye  would  have  rejoiced."  Their  retort  would 
have  been  easy.  "We  do  love  you  as  far  as  rea- 
sonable souls  can  and  ought;  but  it  is  a  little  too 
much  to  ask  us  to  be  glad  that  you  are  going 
away!"  The  disciples  then  were  like  the  rest  of 
us,  wilhng  but  weak  children.  They  did  not  know 
how  to  love  as  they  ought. 

^^ 
So  it  is  with  the  Master  and  with  us  men  and 
women.  He  loves  faithfully;  we  love  fitfully. 
He  loves  in  the  travail  of  his  soul;  we  in  the 
exuberance  of  our  untroubled  spirits.  He  loves 
in  the  hght  of  eternity  which  tests  all  true  love; 
we  love  in  the  flickering  candlelight  of  the  years. 
Well  may  we  cry  this  day: 

"  0  Love  that  wilt  not  let  me  go, 
I  rest  my  weary  soul  in  thee." 

'^ 
<£>  tbou  ta)t]om  to  hnoh)  is  life  anb  to  lobe  is 
ti)e  fullneSfT  of  life!     3  tuoulti  rejoice  in  tijee 
altoapsi 


SEPTEMBER   FIFTEEN 


HToljn  14:  30.  21  to  ill  no  more  gjpcafe  mucJj 
toiti)  pou,  foe  ttie  prince  of  tte  toorlb  tometib: 
ani)  i)e  tati)  nothing  in  me. 

JOTHING!  Absolutely  nothing!  Not 
even  the  shadow  of  anything  in  Christ! 
Who  is  the  sinner  and  where  is  the 
saint  who  dares  to  say  it?  Moses  could 
not  have  said  it,  for  there  was  Meribah  for  him 
to  remember.  David  could  not  have  said  it,  for 
he  could  not  forget  the  parable  of  the  one  ewe 
lamb.  Isaiah  could  not  have  said  it,  for  he 
confessed  himself  to  be  "a  man  of  unclean  lips." 
John  the  Baptist  did  not  say  it  and  his  stern  de- 
nunciations of  sin  savored  strongly  of  penance. 
Peter  could  not  have  said  it,  nor  Paul,  nor  Augus- 
tine, nor  Luther,  nor  Calvin,  nor  Wesley.  The  race 
cannot  say  it  —  I  cannot  say  it.  Only  one  could 
say  it  and  he  did  say  it.  Jesus,  the  spotless  Lamb 
of  God.  The  prince  of  this  world  had  nothing  in 
him.  He  had  nothing  to  command,  nothing  to 
threaten,  nothing  to  foreclose. 

There  is  a  new  song  in  my  mouth  to-day  because 
-Jesus  has  taken  title  to  me  and  therefore  the  prince 
of  the  world  has  nothing  in  me.  He  cannot  touch 
one  whom  the  Holy  One  of  God  has  redeemed  by 
his  own  precious  blood.  Away,  then,  with  the 
neckbands  of  evil,  the  badges  of  folly,  and  the 
fetters  of  serfdom!    Jesus  has  set  me  free! 

0  Cbrist!  3  ftabc  eberptbing  in  tfjcc,  ligftt, 
lobe,  lifaertp  anli  life! 


SEPTEMBER    SIXTEEN 


3lo\)n  14:  31.    ^xiat,  let  uss  qo  fjcnte. 

'ITH  these  closing  words  and  with  meas- 
ured step  and  with  a  confidence  not 
born  of  earth,  the  Saviour  passed  out 
of  the  fellowship  of  his  own  into  the 
gloom  of  the  lonely  Garden  and  the  agony  of  the 
cursed  tree.  He  knew  where  the  "hence"  of 
their  going  would  lead  them.  They  doubtless 
thought  only  of  their  familiar  meeting  place  in  the 
olive  garden  across  the  brook  Kidron.  "Hence" 
meant  fellowship,  quietness,  peace  and  security  to 
them:  to  the  Master,  it  meant  solitude,  the  clash 
of  spears,  betrayal  and  death.  Yet  it  was  the 
Master  who  said  "Let  us  go  hence." 

-$^ 
What  a  fitting  summons  to  greet  me  at  the 
threshold  of  a  new  day!  I  must  go  hence.  No 
matter  how  precious  the  experience  of  the  hour, " 
no  matter  how  great  the  sanctity  of  the  place,  no 
matter  how  intimate  the  fellowship  of  friends, 
Jesus  calls  me  to  arise  and  go  hence.  It  is  not 
fitting  for  me  to  cry,  "Where  wilt  thou  lead  me. 
Lord?"  It  may  be  into  the  midnight  blackness 
of  some  garden  of  sorrow  or  it  may  be  beside  the 
still  waters  of  peace.  My  only  course  is  to  hear 
my  Master's  call  and  instantly  to  rise  up  and 
follow  him. 

"Where  he  leads  me  I  will  follow, 

I'll  go  with  him,  with  him  all  the  way." 

0  JllasJtec!   3(  booullJ  toalb  toitlj  tfjce  to=bap 
toljecebec  ti]ou  bosit  call  avib  Icali! 


SEPTEMBER    SEVENTEEN 


2Fol)n   15:  I.     3  am  tfjc  true  bine,  anb  mp 
Jfatfjer  ifi  tf)e  Ijusfaanbman. 
-^ 
r=7HE  true  vine  has  vine  nature  and  vine 
life.     It  has  roots  that  reach  down  into 
the   soil    and   branches   that   reach   out 
into  the  air.     It  drinks  in  the  moisture 


of  the  earth  and  the  dew  of  heaven.  It  feeds  upon 
the  elements  that  supply  its  fibers  and  cells.  It 
breathes  through  its  leaves  and  its  branches  the 
breath  of  Hfe.  It  lives  to  produce  fruit.  Jesus 
knew  himself  to  be  the  true  vine  of  God.  The 
roots  of  his  nature  reached  down  into  the  deep 
soil  of  humanity,  even  though  he  himself  was  a 
heavenly  vine.  The  life  of  God  and  the  life  of 
man  flowed  freely  through  his  life.  His  Father 
was  the  husbandman.  Never  did  a  connoisseur 
plant  a  rare  rose  in  his  private  garden,  watch, 
water,  train  and  guard  it  with  half  the  care  and 
joy  with  which  the  divine  Husbandman  planted 
and  perfected  the  "  true  vine  "  in  his  earthly  garden. 

During  the  remaining  days  of  this  month  I 
will  be  thinking  of  the  many  phases  of  my  rela- 
tionship to  the  living  vine,  whether  I  am  a  fruitful 
or  a  fruitless  branch;  whether  I  am  an  abiding 
or  a  severed  branch:  whether  I  bear  much  or  little 
fruit.  To-day  it  is  enough  for  me  to  think  about 
the  "true  vine"  himself.  Whatever  else  follows, 
Jesus  is  the  one  true  heavenly  vine,  planted, 
pruned  and  perfected  for  the  bearing  of  heavenly 
fruit  on  earth. 

^elfi  me  to  abtbe  in  tijee,  tfjou  libins  bine! 


SEPTEMBER   EIGHTEEN 


SFoljn  15:    2.    Cberp    brancf)  in    me  tibat 
facaretf)  not  truit,  be  tabctb  it  atoap. 

VEN  a  live  vine  may  have  dead  branches. 
The  fact  that  they  are  dead  branches 
reveals  that  they  were  once  alive,  but  now 
have  only  the  form  without  the  substance. 
The  life  of  the  vine  ceases  to  flow  through  them. 
They  neither  give  to  nor  take  from  the  vine. 
There  are  several  reasons  why  the  dead  branches 
must  be  cut  off.  They  disfigure  the  vine:  they 
put  the  burden  of  their  weight  upon  the  vine, 
without  any  flow  of  Hfe  to  sustain  it;  they  imperil 
other  branches  on  account  of  their  decay  or  death. 
All  of  these  reasons  apply  to  the  life  that  has  lost 
its  real  contact  with  Christ  but  that  retains  nom- 
inal connection. 

DiscipUne  in  the  Church  is  numbered  among 
the  lost  arts.  Social  or  financial  prominence  hin- 
ders the  cutting  off  which  ought  to  take  place. 
Even  though  this  be  true,  the  final  "taking  away" 
is  not  in  the  hands  of  earthly  courts.  There  is 
a  divine  Husbandman  who  loves  the  vine  of  his 
planting  and  who  will  deal  faithfully  with  all  its 
branches.  I  may  have  the  "form  of  godliness," 
and  deny  the  power  thereof  and  still  escape  the 
penalty  of  men.  What  a  solemn  reflection  to 
know  that  the  final  "taking  away"  is  in  the  hands 
of  him  who  shatters  all  pretense  and  who  knows  me 
as  I  am! 

Cast  mcnot  atnap,  0  ^ob,  but  beep  me  cber 
closie  to  tbee! 


SEPTEMBER    NINETEEN 


STofjn  15:  26.  Cberp  farancJ)  tfjat  bearetf) 
fruit,  t)c  tlcansctl)  it,  tftat  it  map  bear  more 
fruit. 

'HY  should  I  be  so  sorely  afflicted?" 
is  the  cry  of  more  than  one  suffering 
soul.  "What  have  I  done  that  the 
Almighty  should  visit  upon  me  the 
grievous  stroke?"  Beloved,  it  is  not  because 
your  "way  is  hid  from  God,"  or  because  he  has 
cast  you  off.  The  branches  that  are  barren  are 
cut  off;  they  are  not  pruned.  It  is  the  fruitful 
branch  that  is  pruned,  because  it  is  fruitful  and 
in  order  that  it  may  bear  more  fruit. 

-^► 
There  are  plausible  heresies  abroad,  that  are 
leading  captive  even  "the  elect."  They  teach 
that  God  does  not  prune  the  branches  of  his  vine, 
that  he  does  not  afflict  or  disciphne  his  children. 
They  rob  his  love  of  its  flaming  holiness  and  make 
it  a  maudlin  emotion,  without  moral  fiber  or 
backbone.  Jesus  might  have  waved  aside  his 
Gethsemane  and  his  Calvary  with  a  sweep  of  the 
hand  if  he  had  followed  such  sophistry.  He  knew, 
in  the  intimacy  of  his  inmost  soul,  the  meaning  of  a 
love  that  lavishes  itself  even  unto  death.  He 
speaks,  from  his  eternal  cross,  across  the  centuries 
to  my  troubled  soul,  and  bids  me  willingly  submit 
to  the  pruning  process  of  holy  love,  in  order  that 
the  deadness  of  my  soul  may  pass  away,  and  that 
his  own  life  may  issue  in  more  fruitfulness  in  me. 

JWafec  tfjc  fruits  of  tf)P  lobe  to  abounb  pet 
more  anb  more  in  me,  <£>  Cljrist,  for  t{)p 
name's  sake! 


SEPTEMBER    TWENTY 


3fol)n  15:  4.  Sifaibe  in  me,  anli  3  in  pou. 
SlK  tbe  farandj  cannot  bear  fruit  of  itself,  except 
it  abibe  in  tte  bine;  fio  ncitJjcr  can  pe,  except  pc 
abibe  in  me. 

A  HINDU  fakir  might  make  a  branch 
seem  to  "bear  fruit  of  itself,"  but  it 
would  be  only  seeming.  The  Creator 
himself  never  made  branches  that  would 
bear  fruit  unless  they  were  vitally  united  to  the 
vine.  Self-righteousness  is  brazen  arid  prepos- 
terous. So  long  as  I  think  of  myself  as  a  source 
of  power  and  not  as  a  channel  of  power,  I  am  hope- 
lessly deceived.  There  is  only  one,  but  one  all- 
sufTicient  way  for  me  to  bear  real  fruit;  it  is  by 
vital  union  with  Jesus  Christ. 

Men  may  call  that  union  mystical.  Let  them 
analyze  the  life  of  the  branch  and  the  vine  and  then 
come  to  me  with  their  challenge.  They  may  pick 
the  fibers  of  the  vine  and  the  branches  apart 
with  their  scalpels  and  forceps,  but  they  have  not 
gotten  near  the  secret  of  life.  They  may  also 
explain  by  theories  of  psychology  and  philosophy 
the  workings  of  the  human  mind  and  may  seem 
to  show  how  self-sufficient  it  is.  They  fail  utterly, 
for  I  know,  and  they  must  know  in  their  heart  of 
hearts,  that  all  my  springs  are  in  God;  that 
abiding  in  Christ  is  the  secret  of  hfe.  Let  me 
learn  anew  that  blessed  lesson  to-day! 

^fjou  art  mp  l^igbteougnegs,  <D  Cftrigt!  ?&elp 
me  to  cling  to  tljce  anb  to  tijec  alone! 


SEPTEMBER    TWENTY-ONE 


3Iof)n  15:  6.  if  a  man  afaibc  not  in  me,  i)t 
ii  cast  foctlj  an  a  branct,  anb  is;  bottijercb;  anb 
tf)e|)  gather  tbem,  anb  casit  ti)em  into  lift  titt, 
anb  tljep  arc  burneb. 

IVE  things  befall  a  barren  branch.  It  is 
^  "cast forth,"  "withered,"  "gathered,"  "cast 
.  .  .  into  the  fire"  and  "burned,"  These 
are  the  stages  of  the  judgment  that  comes 
upon  it  by  the  law  of  God.  It  is  cast  forth  in 
order  to  preserve  the  integrity  of  the  vine.  It 
is  withered  in  order  to  show  the  judgment  of 
barrenness  in  its  very  self.  It  is  gathered,  as  the 
judgment  of  society  upon  fruitlessness.  It  is 
cast  into  the  fire,  which  is  the  judgment  of  the 
husbandman,  and  finally  comes  to  its  burning 
end. 

This  is  a  gruesome  picture  of  the  fate  of  the 
follower  of  Christ  who  does  not  abide  in  him.  It 
may  be  also  a  fitting  picture  of  my  own  sins  and 
habits  which  he  may  give  me  grace  to  cast  off. 
By  so  much  as  I  hope  never  to  be  "cast  forth," 
let  me  cast  forth  my  own  barren  branches.  Let 
^hem  wither  even  though  fond  hopes  should  perish 
with  them,  in  order  that  my  soul  may  not  wither 
away.  Let  them  be  gathered  by  my  conscience 
and  finally  bound  that  they  may  not  cumber  my 
life  again.  Then  into  the  fire  of  repentance  and 
of  contrition  I  will  cast  them,  0  God  of  holiness, 
and  thou  wilt  consume  them  forever. 

0  l^olp  g>pirit!  Cake  atuap  tfjE  bartennessf 
of  mj>  soul  for  Cfjrifit's  sake! 


SEPTEMBER    TWENTY-TWO 


3Iotn  15:  7.  M  pc  abibc  in  me,  ant  mp 
taiorti££  abibe  in  pou,  ask  toijatsoctiec  pe  biill, 
anb  it  fiftall  be  bone  unto  pou. 

'HE  conditions  are  simple  but  inexorable. 
When  we  abide  in  Christ  and  his  words 
abide  in  us  our  prayers  are  irresistible. 
There  is  no  magic  in  this,  no  catch  promise 


that  first  deceives  and  then  deserts  us  and  leaves 
us  to  our  own  resources.  Jesus,  as  always,  meant 
what  he  said."  To  find  his  meaning  is  our  meat 
and  drink.  If  we  abid^  in  him,  we  are  in  his  mood, 
his  Spirit,  his  frame  of  n  nd.  We  desire  the  things 
he  desires  and  seek  the  unfolding  of  his  own  per- 
fect purpose  in  our  lives.  In  order  that  we  may 
know  the  reahty  of  our  abiding  in  him,  he  gives 
us  his  abiding  words.  This  is  the  heaven-ordained 
test  of  the  genuineness  of  our  faith,  and  of  its 
glory.  His  words  abiding  in  us  make  us  one  with 
him  in  mood,  in  spirit  and  in  frame  of  mind. 

'  It  is  not  enough  that  his  words  should  flit 
through  my  mind  as  the  swallows  through  a 
summer  sky.  His  words  must  nestle  in  my  heart 
and  be  hidden  there.  They  must  become  as 
constant  in  their  dwelling  within  my  heart  as 
thought  or  love.  Then  prayer  will  cease  forever 
to  be  begging  or  to  be  complaining,  and  will  be- 
come perfect  communion  and  triumphant  inter- 
cession.    May  it  be  so  this  day! 

-^^ 
<Pratiou£f  Jfatbcr!   tf)ibe  me  to=bap,  3  prap 

tbec,  the  acfemi  of  prcbailing  pcapcr  fot  t{)p 

^on'g  sfafee! 


SEPTEMBER    TWENTY-THREE 


3!obn  15:  8.  3i)txcin  ii  mp  Jfatljcr  Qloci= 
fieb,  ttjat  pc  beat  mucfj  fruit;  anb  so  filjaU  pc 
be  mp  tigciplcs. 


M 


'YV  /rUCH  fruit"  is  the  tie  that  binds  to- 
gether the  glorifying  of  the  Father  and 
the  discipleship  of  the  beUever.  God 
is  not  glorified  with  less  than  "much 
fruit":  Christian  discipleship  is  not  complete 
without  "much  fruit."  The  emphasis  is  upon  the 
"much."  We  are  very  much  like  the  child  who  for 
the  first  time  discovers  an  early  apple  upon  the 
tree.  He  is  delighted  with  the  fruit  even  though 
it  be  but  one.  The  farmer  has  a  larger  purpose 
for  the  tree;   he  desires  it  to  yield  "much  fruit." 

The  Master  is  sure  of  finding  some  of  the  "fruit 
of  the  Spirit"  in  my  life  to-day.  There  may  be  a 
little  bit  of  love,  a  fragment  of  peace,  a  small 
measure  of  joy.  What  he  desires  and  expects  me 
to  produce  are  these  things  in  abundance  in  order 
to  glorify  the  Father  and  to  prove  my  disciple- 
ship. It  is  not  the  leaves  of  outward  show,  not 
Jlhe  few  grapes  scattered  here  and  there  through 
my  life,  that  count.  It  is  the  abundant  harvest 
with  its  heavy  clusters  of  ripened  spiritual  graces, 
that  glorifies  the  Father  and  adorns  my  disciple- 
ship. 

0  Jfatljcr!  3n  tobatcbcr  toap  3  tabc  not 
measurcb  up  to  tbp  Ijolp  purpose  for  mc,  Ijelp 
mc  to  bring  fortfj  more  fruit  in  tfjc  baps  to 
tome! 


SEPTEMBER   TWENTY-FOUR 


3Iof)n  15:  U.  tEtcfie  tfjings  babe  3  spofecn 
unto  pou,  tfjat  mp  jop  map  be  in  pou,  anti  ttat 
pour  jop  map  be  mabe  full. 

ERE  is  a  double  joy  —  the  joy  of  the 
Lord  and  the  joy  of  the  servant.  The 
one  is  the  fountain,  the  other  the  trick- 
ling  stream.     The   Master's  joy  is   full 


and  boundless:  my  joy  is  hmited.  The  miracle 
of  his  love  is  that  he  gives  me  his  joy  to  make  mine 
full.  The  source  of  his  joy  is  within  himself: 
my  joy  must  also  arise  from  the  springs  which 
supply  him. 

The  joy  of  the  Lord  turned  into  the  figure  of 
light  shines  upon  a  double  background,  the  gloom 
of  otherwise  unrelieved  grief,  and  the  flickering 
shadows  of  happiness.  Joy  is  different  from 
both  of  these.  It  is  the  antithesis  of  grief;  the 
reality  of  which  happiness  is  the  shadow. 

The  word  of  Jesus  about  joy  was  spoken  long 
ago,  but  its  echo  has  not  died  away.  He  has 
promised  me,  through  his  well-beloved  Son,  a 
fullness  of  joy.  Who  can  cloud  my  title?  Who 
dares  to  dispossess  me  of  my  inheritance  as  a  child 
of  the  King?  I  am  thirsty  to-day.  Therefore  I 
will  take  the  cup  of  salvation  and  fill  it  to  the  brim 
at  the  wellspring  of  joy  and  go  on  my  way  re- 
joicing. Rejoice!  and  "again  I  will  say.  Rejoice." 
I  will  "Rejoice  in  the  Lord  alwa^^s!" 

^^ 
^Refitorc  unto  me  tf)c  jop  of  tfjp  galbation,  0 
<©ob,  anb  upfjolb  me  toitfj  tfjp  free  Spirit! 


SEPTEMBER    TWENTY-FIVE 

3Io|)n  15:  12.  tCfjis  ig  mp  commanbment, 
tfjat  pe  lobe  one  another,  eben  as  3  Ija^c  lobtb 
pou. 

ESUS  outlined  very  clearly  the  real  relation 

between  law  and  love.     Those  who  kept  his 

commandments  as  he  kept  his  Father's  com- 

JJ    mandments  were  to  be  the  inheritors  of  his 

joy.     The  end  of  his  commandment  is  love.     The 

law  of  God  issues  in  the  love  of  God.     Love  to 

one  another,  inspired  and  measured  by  his  love 

for  his  disciples,  is  the  fruit  of  the  joy  that  he 

promised. 

-^^ 

This  is  a  very  concrete  way  of  testing  my 
faith.  No  matter  how  devout  my  worship,  how 
tireless  my  service,  how  passionate  my  zeal,  if  I 
do  not  have  the  sweet  grace  of  love  to  my  fellows, 
I  am  a  hollow  sham.  Perhaps  my  concern  for  the 
"faith  which  was  once  for  all  delivered  unto  the 
saints"  has  led  me  to  bitter  straits,  and  has  caused 
me  to  brand  some  beloved  brother  with  odium 
and  contempt.  If  I  am  in  such  a  mood  Jesus 
seeks  to  find  me  in  order  to  save  me.  Brotherly 
Jove  is  the  surest  test  of  the  genuineness  of  faith. 
As  Christ  has  loved  me,  freely,  truly,  patiently, 
so  let  me  love  those  who  profess  to  be  his  disciples, 
in  deed  and  in  truth.  Jesus  does  not  ask  me  to 
judge  my  brother,  but  to  love  him,  even  as  he  has 
loved  me. 

0  tbou  fcoljo  bibst  lobe  me  enotigb  to  bie  for 
me!  ifJlap  3  lobe  tljee  tijis  bap  enougt)  to  libe 
for  others.     Jfor  tfjp  name's  safac! 


SEPTEMBER    TWENTY-SIX 


BToljn  15:  13.  Greater  lobe  Jjatf)  no  man 
ti)an  t^ii,  tbat  a  man  lap  boton  i)i6  life  foe  i)isi 
fricnbfi. 


TT 


AYING    down    one's    life  whether    for    a 

caprice  or  a  conviction,  for  a  friend  or  for 

.a   stranger,  is    in    itself    an   unfathomable 

-^===^  mystery.     How  can  any  sane  man  delib- 


erately lose  his  own  life  that  some  one  else  may 
enjoy  his?  Against  all  of  this,  is  the  simple  fact 
that,  over  and  over  again,  men  have  done  it. 
Mothers  do  it  for  their  offspring;  soldiers  do  it  for 
their  country;  nurses  do  it  for  their  patients; 
friends  do  it  for  their  friends;  and  the  Son  of  God 
did  it  for  the  sins  of  the  world. 


It  may  never  be  mine  to  lay  down  my  life  for 
any  friend.  The  final  test  may  not  be  applied 
to  me;  yet  scarcely  a  day  will  pass  when  I  may  not 
lay  down  something  of  my  fife  upon  the  altar  of 
friendship.  The  same  spirit,  which  would  speed 
me  to  the  laying  down  of  conscious  life  itself, 
bids  me  lay  down  at  the  feet  of  my  friends  all  the 
treasures  of  the  life  that  God  has  given  me,  and  as 
he  appoints.  There  is  no  holier  life  than  this 
and  there  is  no  greater  love.  I  would  live  such  a 
life  to-day  and  would  lay  it  all  at  Jesus'  feet  for 
those  whom  he  has  made  my  friends. 

-^ 

0  ^abiour!  jUlap  tfjp  greatest  lobe  inipitt 
in  me  tlje  greater  lobe,  bjitljout  tnbicb  mp  £tcrb= 
itt  b)tll  be  all  in  bain! 


SEPTEMBER    TWENTY-SEVEN 


STotn  15:  14.  gc  arc  mp  fricnlisi,  if  pc  bo  ^ 
Ujc  ttjings  taljicl)  31  tommanti  pou. 
*^ 
==7HINK  of  the  ordinary  tests  of  friendship! 
Age,  similarity  of  tastes  and  temperament, 
common  interests,  other  and  common 
friends.  All  of  these  often  characterize 
friendship,  yet  there  are  striking  examples  of  the 
existence  of  this  relation  between  people  of  dif- 
ferent ages,  unlike  in  taste  and  temperament, 
having  no  interests  in  common  except  friendship 
itself,  and  possessing  no  common  friends.  Jesus' 
test  for  friendship  was  of  a  different  sort.  What- 
ever else  friendship  might  or  might  not  mean  to 
others,  Jesus  made  it  plain  that  to  him  it  meant 
obedience.  A  friend  is  one  upon  whom  I  may 
lean  in  any  hour  and  not  be  disappointed.  A  true 
friend  is  he  who  sees  in  me  enough  truth  and 
goodness  to  warrant  the  investment  of  his  confi- 
dence in  me. 

It  is  one  thing  for  me  to  call  Jesus  my  friend. 
What  a  noble,  holy,  divine  Friend  he  is!  It  is 
another  thing  for  Jesus  to  call  me  his  friend  — 
what  pitiful  resources,  how  scant  the  treasures 
of  the  friendship  I  offer  him!  Ah,  but  he  does 
not  ask  treasures  and  resources.  He  asks  only 
obedience.  I  have  not  much  to  offer  him  this 
day,  but  what  I  have  I  freely  give. 

0  tf)ou  tofjo  fjasit  calleti  me  tfjp  ivitnttl  3Re- 
ccibc  tit  lobing  qiit  of  a  surrcnberetJ  fjeart.  anb 
accept  mp  obebicncc  to  tfjp  fjolp  tuill  as;  a  token 
of  mp  real,  if  intperfect,  fricnbsfjip  foe  tJjee! 


SEPTEMBER    TWENTY-EIGHT 

SToljn  15:  16.  ^c  "bits  not  tfjoose  me,  but 
3  cljogc  pou,  anb  appointeb  pou,  tfjat  pc  fiftouHi 
go  anb  bear  fruit,  anb  tijat  pour  fruit  slbowlb 
abibe. 

OVEREIGNTY  is  only  th^  free  will  of  God. 
The  Master's  choice  of  his  disciples  did  not 
interfere  with  their  choice  of  him;  it  rather 
inspired  and  called  forth  their  choice. 
Jesus  put  first  things  first.  Human  weakness 
and  human  woe  are  not  first  in  the  economy  of 
Christ.  His  sovereign  grace  is  first.  Human 
love  and  human  trust  are  not  first:  Christ's  love 
for  men  and  his  divine  confidence  are  the  fore- 
front as  well  as  the  background  of  salvation. 

-^■ 
It  may  be  that  I  am  remembering  the  very  spot, 
where,  many  years  ago,  I  gave  my  heart  to  Christ. 
If  the  veil  were  only  lifted,  I  would  be  looking 
back  into  the  counsels  of  eternity  and  beholding 
the  sacred  spot  where  Christ  laid  down  his-  life 
for  me.  Little  wonder,  then,  that  he  makes  his 
choice  of  me  an  ordination  for  service.  He  saved 
me  that  I  might  serve  him.  Let  me  be  sure  of 
Christ's  ordaining  call  to  service;  then,  no  matter 
how  toilsome  the  day,  I  will  have  abundant 
access  to  the  life  of  the  Vine.  I  may  ask  what  I 
will,  and  the  loving  Father  will  give  it  to  me, 
for  his  Son's  sake. 

©  iJlaster!  (g^ibe  me  to=bap  an  obebient, 
lobing  Ijeart  tfjat  3  map  bear  unto  tJjee  abibing 
fruit! 


SEPTEMBER    TWENTY-NINE 


3fol)n  15:  16.     tICfjat  toljatgocber  pc  gfjall  afife 
of  tfjc  jFatfjct  in  mp  name,  fje  map  gibe  it  pou. 

"""^HIS  promise  is  only  made  to  those  who 
are  abiding  in  Christ,  and  who  are  bring- 
ing forth  fruit  that  shall  abide.  The 
name   of  Jesus   is   the   talismanic   token 


by  which  our  intercession  prevails,  yet  it  is  not 
by  muttering  the  mere  name  of  Jesus  that  we  are 
to  triumph.  "In  his  name"  means  in  all  that 
his  name  symbolizes:  his  goodness  and  his  love, 
his  confidence  and  his  patience.  I  cannot  truly  ask 
"in  his  name,"  when  my  daily  life  is  lived  outside 
the  circle  of  his  revealed  will.  To  be  set  upon 
doing  my  own  will;  to  be  determined  to  have  my 
own  way;  to  put  other  things  first  before  the 
seeking  of  his  kingdom;  and,  then,  in  some  hour 
of  dire  need,  to  cry  "for  Jesus'  sake,"  is  not  ful- 
filling the  conditions  of  Christ's  command  and  his 
promise. 

Jesus  said  "whatsoever"  and  it  ill  becomes  me 

to    tone    down    his    promise.       "Whatsoever!  " 

What   an   almost   infinite   range    of    blessings    is 

covered  by  this  comprehensive  word.     Creature 

Gomforts,  temporal  good,  inward  graces,  enlarged 

capacities    for   enjoyment    and    for    service!     All 

of  these  in  their  proper  place  and  position   are 

mine  for  his  sake,  with  whom  God  has  freely  given 

us  all  things! 

-^^ 

0  tf)ou  tof)0£(e  name  is  aliotjc  ebcrp  name! 
jUlap  31  bjcar  it  toortbilp  anb  use  it  rcbcrentlp 
anil  confiientlp  tl)i6  bap! 


SEPTEMBER    THIRTY 


Sloljn  15:  18.     3lf  tjjc  tuodb  fjatetjj  pou,  pe 
bnob)  ttat  it  i)ati)  tateb  me  before  it  ijateti  pou. 

ESUS  was  a  true  prophet  of  the  living  God. 
All  such  prophets  have  been  hated  by  those 
whose  sins  they  rebuked.  He  was  a  reformer 
of  society,  in  its  strictest  sense  the  reformer  of 
society.  He  revealed  the  flaming  holiness  of  God. 
How  bitterly  he  was  hated,  let  Calvary  tell  and  let 
the  unbroken  persecution  of  his  Church,  and  the 
never  ceasing  refusal  of  his  kingdom,  disclose. 
The  tragedy  of  it  all  is  that  they  hated  him  without 
a  cause. 


M 


There  is  no  royal  road  to  glory  for  the  disciple 
that  leaves  the  Master  alone  in  his  grief. 
"It  is  the  way  the  Master  went; 
Should  not  the  servant  tread  it  still?" 

Jesus  made  it  perfectly  plain,  that  the  same 
sort  of  hatred  which  he  encountered  should  be 
the  inheritance  of  every  faithful  follower.  If  I 
am  a  mere  harmless  sort  of  a  Christian,  speaking 
well  of  everyone,  the  Devil  included,  and  con- 
demned by  none,  I  may  be  despised,  but  not  hated. 
If,  on  the  other  hand,  my  hfe  is  one  that  counts, 
no  matter  how  humble  its  sphere,  then  hatred 
will  blow  its  venomed  breath  upon  me,  for  Jesus' 
sake.  For  his  dear  sake,  I  will  be  brave  and 
true. 

€>  iMasiter!  ILti  me  fcoalb  toitfj  tfjce  tUi  bap 
anb  count  no  txtm  of  gijame  too  tjeabp  to  beac 
for  tf)p  namc'is  gabc! 


OCTOBER    ONE 


3roi)n  15:  26.  ?@ut  tobcn  tfje  Comforter  i& 
come,  tobom  3  toill  senb  unto  pou  from  tf)e 
jfatfjer,  ebcn  tfte  Spirit  of  trutft,  bofjicf)  pro= 
ceebetJ)  from  tfte  Jfattjcr,  f)c  isljaU  bear  toitness 
of  me. 

^HIS  time  Jesus  promises  to  send  the  Holy 
Spirit.  First  he  promised  to  ask  the 
Father  that  he  might  give  the  Spirit. 
Then  he  gave  assurance  of  the  coming  of 
that  Comforter  whom  the  Father  would  send  in 
his  name.  Now  he  presses  into  a  deeper  intimacy 
and  himself  promises  to  send  the  Spirit  of  truth. 
The  Holy  Spirit  is  as  closely  identified  with  the 
Son  as  with  the  Father.  The  theory  of  "meta- 
physical procession"  is  not  vastly  important  com- 
pared with  the  vital  truth  that  the  Holy  Spirit 
of  God  is  the  abiding  witness  of  Christ,  sent  by 
Christ  from  the  Father  into  my  heart  and  life. 

There  are,  indeed,  "inscrutable  mysteries" 
in  God,  before  which  many  besides  Herbert 
Spencer,  have  reverently  bowed.  My  concern 
is  not  so  much  over  the  truth  which  has  been 
hidden  in  a  mystery,  as  over  the  truth  which  has 
been  revealed  in  Christ.  I  would  learn  the 
l^aster'B  lesson  of  Ufe  to-day  under  the  instruc- 
tion of  the  Spirit  of  truth.  In  his  own  good  time, 
I  shall  see  "face  to  face"  and  know  even  as  also 

I  am  known. 

^^ 

J^olp  Spirit  of  (Sob,  in  tuftom  3  Ijabe  been 
gealcb  unto  tbc  bap  of  rcbemption!  Jforbib 
tljat  bp  anp  sin  of  inbiffcrcnce  3  sJjoulb  gricbe 
tijce  tftijf  bap! 


OCTOBER   TWO 


3foi)n  16:  t,  3,  4.  6.  ^tjesie  tfjings  fjabe  3 
gpofecn  unto  pou,  tfjat  pc  gfjoulb  not  be  tauscb 
to  stumble.  .  .  .  anb  tljcfie  tfjingsf  h3Ul  tfjep  bo, 
faetaufie  tljep  Ijabe  not  bnoton  ttje  jfatfter,  nor  me. 
Put  tfjcsfe  tfjinga  fjabe  3  spoken  unto  pou,  tfjat 
toijen  tijcir  Jjout  in  come,  pe  map  remember  tfjcm, 
i)ob)  tt)at  3  tolb  pou.  !9nb  tijese  ttjtngs  3  saib 
not  unto  pou  from  tfje  beQinning,  because  3 
teas  toitb  pou.  .  .  .  JSut  because  3  fjabe 
spofeen  tijese  tfjings  unto  pou,  sorrotn  Ijatf)  fiUeb 
pour  Ijeart. 

"*^HESE  things"  came  to  pass  according 
to  his  promise.  The  Spirit,  whom  he 
promised,  came.  Easter  dawned,  radiant 
with  hope  and  immortahty.  Pentecost 
burst  upon  the  disciples  in  the  splendor  of  the 
Spirit.  The  Church,  which  is  his  building,  was 
founded  upon  the  Rock  which  is  Christ.  It  re- 
mains unshaken.  His  cross  has  been  emblazoned 
on  the  banners  of  the  nations  and  has  been 
lifted  — 

"Towering  o'er  the  wrecks  of  time."  . 
-$^ 
His  image  has  been  enshrined  in  the  hearts  of 
miUions.  His  name  is  above  every  name.  "These 
things"  are  the  "mediae  res,"  the  central  events, 
of  the  program  of  God.  They  spell  prosperity 
for  the  individual,  purity  for  the  home,  peace  for 
the  nation,  progress  for  the  race,  an  innumerable 
throng  for  the  heavenly  city,  and  the  fulfillment 
of  God's  eternal  purpose. 

<2>  tfjou  battf)  tof)om  *'tbese  tfjings"  came  to 
pass!  ?anto  tfjee  sljall  eberp  fence  boto  anb 
eberp  tongue  confess,  toorlb  toitijout  enb! 


OCTOBER   THREE 


3Iof)n  16:  7.  i^cbertteless;  3  tell  pou  tfjc 
trutJ):  3t  is  cxpcbicnt  for  pou  tJjat  3  go  atnap; 
for  if  3  go  not  atoap,  tlje  Comforter  toill  not  come 
unto  pou;  but  if  3  go,  3  toill  genb  i)im  unto  pou. 

'ESUS'  word  was  his  bond,  yet  he  added  to  his 
word  the  seal  and  token  of  eternal  truth. 
His  satisfying  explanation  covered  every  side 
JJ  of  the  situation.  What  the  disciples  would 
soon  spell  in  terms  of  defeat,  despite  the  Master's 
assurance  and  explanation,  he  was  teaching  them 
to  spell  in  letters  of  victory. 

Jesus  still  teaches  expedient  truth  to  his  chosen 
disciples.  We  still,  hke  those  of  old,  require  the 
Master's  solemn  assurance  and  satisfying  explana- 
tion. 

"What  more  can  he  say  than  to  you  he  hath 
said, 
You  who  unto  Jesus  for  refuge  have  fled?" 

If  the  Master  witholds  from  me  from  day  to  day 
a  single  coveted  blessing;  if  he  withdraws  any- 
thing in  whose  possession  and  enjoyment  I  have 
hitherto  been  uninterrupted;  if  he  seems  to  take 
away  any  of  the  tokens  of  his  presence  which 
mean  life  to  me;  it  is  only  in  order  that  he  may 
give  larger  blessings,  more  permanent  possessions 
and  more  abiding  enjoyments. 

3  praise  tfjee  for  tJjc  assurances  of  tfjp  tDorb, 
anb  for  tbc  satisfactions  of  tfjp  Spirit!  iMabe 
tftem  botf)  real  to  mp  f)cart  tf)is  bap,  ®  Horb, 
3  pleab! 


OCTOBER  FOUR 


STofjn  16:  8.  i3nli  l)t,  tofien  fjc  is  come, 
toill  tonbict  tijc  boorlb  in  respect  of  sin,  .  .  . 
anb  of  juiigmcnt. 

T7E  is  a  convicting  as  well  as  a  comforting 

Spirit.     Like  the  pillar  of  fire  that  turned 

its  darkness  toward  the  pursuing  Eg>^p- 
^  tians,  so  the  Holy  Spirit,  who  is  the 
believer's  comfort,  turns  a  convicting  face  toward 
sin  and  unbehef.  The  disciples  did  not  begin  to 
fathom  all  the  depths  of  the  Spirit's  ministry. 
What  havoc,  though,  they  would  have  wrought 
with  the  faith,  if  they  had  forgotten  to  take  the 
Holy  Spirit  into  account!  What  a  shipwreck 
they  would  have  made  of  the  early  Church  if 
they  had  propelled  her  upon  the  troubled  seas  of 
Roman  civilization  in  the  demonstration  of  any 
other  power  than  that  of  the  Spirit! 


There  are  those  to-day  who  are  willing  to  sur- 
render a  convicting  Spirit.  The  Spirit  of  the 
times  is  more  to  be  reckoned  with  than  the  Spirit 
of  God.  The  world  must  not  be  arraigned  and 
convicted  of  sin:  it  must  be  taught  to  believe  in 
its  own  real  goodness.  The  mission  of  the  Church 
is  just  to  show  men  and  women  how  lovely  .life 
is  and  how  good  they  are.  Salvation  is  by  char- 
acter and  not  by  grace.  God  forbid  that  I  should 
be  tinged  with  such  dishonorable,  deadly  heresy. 

0  Spirit  of  ti)t  libing  (Sob!  Comfort,  con= 
bict,  conbert!  So  tftine  appointcJj  toork  in  mc 
anil  in  ti)c  toorlli  to=liap! 


OCTOBER  FIVE 


STofjn  16:  9.    0t  sin,  betause  tftep  beliebe 
not  on  me. 

^"'N  the  light  of  the  Master's  own  claims  for 
himself,  it  was  no  simple  thing  to  refuse  to 
believe  on  him.  He  made  such  unbeHef 
synonymous  with  loving  darkness,  hating 
light,  willing  not  to  be  saved.  If  by  any  token 
of  need  or  of  faith  we  cling  to  Jesus  as  our 
Saviour,  we  have  consented  to  that  truth  which 
makes  acceptance  of  him  in  his  finished  work, 
salvation;  and  rejection  of  him,  condemnation. 
The  fundamental  article  of  evangelical  faith  is 
that  man  is  a  sinner  and  needs  a  divine  Saviour. 
The  tragedy  of  this  sin  becomes  most  deeply 
complicated  without  even  the  hope  of  resolution, 
when  the  sinner  turns  upon  the  Saviour  and 
"crucifies  him  afresh." 

Would  to  God  that  the  Church  might  cease 
playing  with  the  fires  of  unbelief!  To  deny  the 
personahty  of  the  Holy  Spirit;  to  find  some  other 
need  and  ground  for  salvation  than  sovereign 
grace  seeking  and  saving  a  helpless  sinner;  to 
gloss  over  as  unimportant,  false  and  unscriptural 
x'lews  which  make  fight  of  sin;  is  to  invite  the 
judgment  of  God  who  "is  a  devouring  fire." 
Would  to  God  that  the  Church  might  begin  pray- 
ing anew  with  Pentecostal  power,  for  the  presence 
of  the  convicting  Holy  Spirit. 

-^- 
fflobc  upon  ttje  i)eavts  of  sinful  men,  0 

bibine  Spirit,  anb  tonbict  tftcm  of  ti)tix  unbe= 

lief  in  Cftrist! 


OCTOBER   SIX 


HTolbn  16:  10.    0i  rigljteousnejos,  because  3 
BO  to  tljc  Jfatfjec,  ant>  pc  befjolii  me  no  more. 

fi — II — «/HE  apostle  Paul,  whose  letter  to  the 
Romans  is  the  classic  scripture  upon 
righteousness,  did  not  change  the  object 
of  his  life  when  he  met  the  glorified  Christ 


upon  the  Damascus  way,  he  only  changed  his 
direction.  He  had  always  sought  righteousness, 
in  the  law,  in  tradition  and  ceremonies,  within 
his  own  heart.  Suddenly  he  was  convicted  of 
righteousness  by  the  Holy  Spirit  as  he  saw  Jesus 
manifesting  perfectly  the  righteousness  of  God. 

Jesus  is  the  sunhght  which  falls  upon  the  dark- 
ness of  eternity  past:  he  is  the  searchlight, 
which  tracks  out  its  path  from  human  need  to 
the  divine  supply  in  the  righteousness  of  God  in 
Christ.  He  is  the  telescope  to  bring  from  afar 
the  heavenly  glories  of  the  ascended  Christ  and 
to  show  them  unto  me.  He  is  the  microscope  to 
bring  the  righteousness  of  God  that  is  hidden  in 
the  letter  of  the  written  Word  and  make  it  trans- 
cendent in  the  face  of  Jesus  the  incarnate  Word. 
He  is  the  kaleidoscope  to  bring  forth,  to  the  eyes 
of  faith,  in  a  million  forms,  the  many-sided  right- 
eousness of  God  in  the  Beloved.  He  is  the  spec- 
troscope to  reveal  the  presence  and  the  perfect 
blending  of  all  the  attributes  of  God  and  man 
in  Christ. 

0  l&olp  Spirit,  tbou  l^ebcaler  of  ngl)teoug= 
negg!  jWabc  tf)e  glorp  ot  Cfjrifit  plain  before 
ntp  t^ts  to=ijap! 


OCTOBER    SEVEN 


D 


STobn  16:  U.  €>i  jubgtncnt,  because  tlje 
prince  of  i\yi^  tooclti  ijati)  been  jubgeli. 

"^ESUS  made  discriminating  use  of  the  perfect 
tense.  Some  things  had  been  finished:  others 
not  begun.  Life  and  immortahty  were  upon 
the  ascending  scale  of  infinity.  They  were 
ever  moving  upward  and  onward.  Love  was 
always  enlarging  itself  to  embrace  new  trophies 
of  its  mighty  power.  Every  hour,  revelation 
was  unfolding  the  panorama  of  truth  and  every 
moment  experience  was  adding  a  new  film  to  the 
kinetoscope  of  wisdom.  In  the  midst  of  it  all, 
one  thing  was  finished  —  judgment. 

Did  not  Jesus  exaggerate  or  make  a  mistake? 
Judgment  is  commonly  supposed  to  take  place 
aeons  of  ages  hence.  What  of  the  "great  white 
throne,"  the  assembled  hosts  of  the  universe,  the 
ends  of  the  ages?  It  is  true  that  the  sentence  of 
God  has  not  yet  been  fully  carried  out;  but  it 
has  been  irrevocably  pronounced  and  there  is  no 
appellate  court  to  reverse  the  verdict.  The 
Master  is  sure  of  one  thing.  His  enemy  is  a  con- 
victed and  condemned  criminal.  He  may  still 
plot  mischief  within  the  confines  of  his  prison 
cell,  but  his  doom  is  sealed.  "The  prince  of  this 
world  hath  been  judged!"  Though  the  issue  of 
the  right  seems  long  deferred,  it  will  surely  come. 
"The  mouth  of  Jehovah  hath  spoken  it!" 

©  ttou  tofjo  art  merciful  in  sialbation,  tijou 
art  al£(o  migijtp  in  jubgment!  ^ijou  bast  jubgeb 
tfjine  enemies:  sabe  tfjp  people,  sabe  eben  mel 


OCTOBER  EIGHT 


3fof)n  16:  12.  21  ftafae  pet  manp  tijingg  to 
gap  unto  I'ou,  but  pe  cannot  bear  ttjem  nota. 

7  HERE  are  things  which  cannot  yet  be 
borne.  Every  parent  knows  it  as  he  or 
she  deals  with  a  growing  child.  Every 
teacher  confirms  it  in  the  process  of  edu- 
cation. Every  Christian  has  learned  it  in  the 
school  of  experience.  If  we  were  compelled  to 
bear  to-day's  burdens  with  yesterday's  strength, 
we  would  break.  The  disciples  also  learned  it. 
Could  Peter  have  boriie  half  the  things  Jesus  had 
in  store  for  him  if  he  had  been  told  in  advance? 
Jesus  was  only  uttering  an  unmistakable  truth  of 
experience  but  he  was  also  spirituahzing  it. 

-^ 
The  Master  speaks  the  same  word  to  me  to-day. 
Does  it  mean  that  some  hidden  disaster  will  leap 
upon  me  ere  this  day  dies  and  strip  me  of  loved 
ones,  health  or  wealth?  Perhaps!  It  also  .sig- 
nifies that  the  Lord  has  riches  of  grace,  which  he 
is  waiting  to  bestow  upon  me  until  I  have  become 
able  to  bear  them.  Many  a  suffering  saint  has 
had  his  sorrow  turned  into  singing  by  the  inflow 
of  strength  unto  a  heart  that  was  once  too  cramped 
to  receive  it.  If  only  I  will  live  a  trustful  and 
an  obedient  life  to-day,  the  things  that  cannot 
yet  be  borne  will  be  revealed  to  me  moment  by 
moment.     As  my  days  so  shall  my  strength  be! 

€>  Ilorb!  allot  mp  bnilp  task  to  me  tuitf) 
bailp  Btrengtij!  S?clp  mc  to  bear  tfjc  tftinss  3 
must,  ant)  fit  me  for  fteabier  burbens,  for  tfjp 
name's  sake! 


OCTOBER  NINE 


SToljn  16:  13.  ?if?otDfaeit  tufjen  f)C,  tfjc  Spirit 
of  trutf),  t£f  come,  ije  sijall  suttic  |)ou  into  all  ti)e 
trutJj. 

OD  intends  all  truth  to  be  explored. 
Kings,  sages  and  priests  have  built  fences 
about  what  they  thought  was  the  truth: 
in  reality  they  have  only  built  barricades 
about  the  vicious  circle  of  their  own  hmitations. 
What  we  need  is  not  a  fence  but  a  Guide.  God 
has  given  us  that  Guide  in  the  Spirit  of  truth. 
The  forest  is  his.  He  has  blazed  a  clear  trail, 
which  the  simplest-minded  soul  may  follow  if  he 
will.  The  trail  begins  at  the  crimson-stained  scar 
upon  a  tree  called  Calvary.  There  is  no  other  safe 
way  to  enter  the  forest  of  truth.  The  pathway 
finally  leads  us  to  "the  tree  of  fife,  .  .  .  yielding 
its  fruit  every  month:"  and  whose  leaves  are  "for 
the  heahng  of  the  nations." 

I  have  not  yet  explored  all  the  truth,  but  I  have 
a  Guide  who  will  take  me  as  far  as  I  will  go.  There 
is  no  outreach  of  divine  love  and  goodness  into 
which  the  divine  Guide  is  not  wilhng  to  lead  me  if 
r  will  but  follow  him.  In  the  midst  of  bewilder- 
ing philosophies  and  fragmentary  sciences,  how 
truly  I  need  a  Guide  whom  I  can  trust!  Why 
should  I  have  one  added  care  when  the  Spirit  of 
truth  himself  is  by  my  side? 

<©uibc  me.  ©  tfjou  Qteat  ^Teljobaf),  hv  tfjinc 
inbtoelUng  Spirit  tutom  ti)ou  ijast  sfent  to  leal) 
me  into  all  tf)e  tcutij! 


OCTOBER   TEN 


3fol)n  16:  13,  14.  jFot  fje  sftall  not  gpcafe 
from  fjimgcU:  liut  tofjat  tftings  soebcr  Ijc  gfjall 
bear,  tfjcse  sfjall  })C  speak:  anb  Ijc  stall 
bcclare  unto  pou  ti)t  tfjings  tfjat  arc  to  come. 
3^t  sfjall  glorifpme:  for  I)e  sljall  tafac  of  mine, 
antr  stall  beclare  it  unto  po\x. 

"^ 

'HE  Guide  has  a  fourfold  credential.     He 

will  not  speak  of  himself:    he  will  speak 

the  things  he  has  heard.     He  will  declare 

things  that  are  to  come:    he  will  reveal 


the  things  of  Christ.  These  are  the  marks  by 
which  the  divine  Guide  makes  himself  known 
and  guarantees  his  competence  to  those  whom 
he  is  appointed  to  lead.  There  are  other  spirits 
who  profess  to  guide  the  believer,  but  they  are 
not  the  divinely  credentialed  one.  One-  of  them 
has  for  his  badge  a  great  emotional  experience 
which  he  is  able  to  produce.  Another  has  a 
clever  chart  of  the  whole  plan  of  redemption. 
Everything  has  been  done  for  us,  even  our  thinking. 
The  divine  Guide  does  not  make  us  aware  of 
his  presence  by  any  strange  mystical  manifesta- 
tion. We  may  know  how  near  the  Spirit  is  to  us 
by  finding  how  dear  Christ  is  to  us.  The  dearer 
the  Saviour,  the  nearer  the  Spirit! 

^^ 

There  are  many  truths  I  covet  to  know.     My 

direst  need  is  to  know  the  truth.    That  truth  I 

will  find  in  Jesus  Christ  my  Lord,  in  whom  "are 

all  the  treasures  of  wisdom  and  knowledge  hidden." 

-^ 
J^olp  Spirit,  faitfjful  (Suibc!   ICeab  me  into 
ttc  trutt  of  mjp  ^abiour'S  lobe  tfjis  bap.     jF«r 
tis  name's  safael 


OCTOBER  ELEVEN 


SToijn  16:  16.  'Si  little  luljilc,  anb  pe  faefjolb 
me  no  more;  anb  asain  a  little  totile,  anb  pe 
fijjall  gee  me. 

-$^ 

ESUS'  "little  while"  made  a  peculiar  impres- 
sion upon  the  disciples.  The  Gospel  record 
reports  the  phrase  several  times,  first  on  the 
JJ  hps  of  Jesus,  then  echoed  from  the  disciples' 
hearts,  and  then  upon  their  lips.  Jesus  says 
it:  they  think  it  over  and  cannot  fathom  it:  he 
repeats  it  and  confirms  it. 

What  blessed  "little  whiles"  we  receive  at 
Jesus'  hand!  Some  beloved  one  leaves  us  for  the 
"land  that  is  fairer  than  day";  and,  going,  waves 
a  farewell  hand,  saying,  "  In  a  little  while,  we  shall 
meet  again!"  The  ministry  of  burden  bearing 
and  pain  refreshes  us  with  the  "little  while"  of 
patience,  and  after  that  we  "have  suffered  a  little 
while,"  we  shall  be  glorified.  Life,  to  the  child,  is 
a  "long  while"  in  coming.  As  we  grow  older  the 
"little  while"  of  experience  and  patience  and 
faith  overcomes  the  "long  while"  of  fancy.  The 
aged  man  or  woman,  who  is  deprived  of  his  or  her 
lijelong  comrade,  finds  a  blissful  solace  in  the 
"little  while"  of  waiting  and  watching.  The 
loving  Saviour  fulfilled  the  promise  of  the  "little 
while"  to  the  disciples  of  old.  He  will  fulfill  it 
to  me.  In  but  a  "little  while"  he  will  turn  my 
sorrow  into  singing,  my  cross  into  my  crown. 

-^ 
®  Christ  of  tOe  "little  tobilc"!   3  lobe  tfjee 

for  tf)at  tootb  of  comfort  anb  peace!     ifWap  3  be 

ttiine  all  ti)e  tt)i)ile! 


OCTOBER    TWELVE 


3fof)n  16:  20.  "^crilp,  facrilp,  3  sap  unto 
pou,  tijat  pe  6l)aU  toeep  anb  lament,  but  tf)e 
tjjorlb  £(f)aU  rejoice:  pe  stjall  be  fiorrotuful,  but 
pour  gorroto  ii)all  be  turneb  into  jop. 

NLY  a  divine  alchemist  could  do  this. 
It  is  one  thing  to  forget  our  sorrows  for 
a  season,  to  deny  their  reality;  to  be 
heedless  of  the  havoc  that  they  wreak. 
It  is  another  thing  to  have  our  sorrows  turned 
into  joy.  Jesus  never  made  light  of  his  disciples' 
sorrows.  They  were  real  to  him.  He  was  moved 
"with  the  feeling  of  our  infirmities."  He  even 
used  the  bold  figure  of  a  deep  and  dire  human 
anguish,  that  is  often  crowned  with  joy,  to  illus- 
trate how  his  travail  and  their  travail  would  be 
turned  into  the  joy  of  life. 

-*^ 
Has  the  Master  ever  wrought  this  miracle  for 
me?  If  not,  it  may  be  because  I  have  as  yet 
never  had  any  great  sorrow  that  needed  to  be 
turned  into  joy.  Doubtless  I  have  had  my  hour 
of  overwhelming  grief.  What  then?  It  may  be 
that  I  have  not  brought  my  sorrows  to  the  Master. 
He  cannot  turn  into  joy  what  I  will  not  turn  over 
to  him.  If  I  withhold  my  sore  heart  from  -his 
heahng  touch  because  I  fear  the  probing  hurt  of 
his  hand  of  disciphne,  I  cannot  be  made  whole. 

0  <@otr,  tI]ou  i^aat  turneb  tlje  sijabob}  of  beat!) 
into  tlje  morning!  jBap  tbe  patb  of  mp  sorrota 
leab  me  out  into  ttje  iop  of  mp  TLoxttl 


OCTOBER    THIRTEEN 


loljiT  16:  22.  ainb  pe  therefore  note  fjabe 
Borroto:  but  31  toill  sec  pou  again,  anb  pouc  fjcart 
fifjall  rejoice,  anb  pour  jop  no  one  takctf)  atoap 
from  pou. 

ORROW  now,  joy  to-morrow,  and  the  glory 
of  it  all,  that  no  one  can  take  it  away.  It 
is  literally  true.  Men  may  rob  us  of  many 
things.  They  may  plunder  our  possessions; 
they  may  disturb  our  positions;  they  may  even 
seriously  threaten  our  peace  of  mind.  They  can- 
not steal  our  joy  because  it  is  in  a  burglar-proof 
vault:  only  those  can  enter  who  know  the  com- 
bination. If  we  lose  our  joy  it  is  because  we 
deliberately  or  carelessly  give  it  up.  If  we  give 
the  key  into  the  keeping  of  our  enemies  we  will 
certainly  be  despoiled  of  our  treasure. 

Have  I  the  joy  of  the  Lord?     Did  I  have  it  once, 
but  now  have  lost  it?     Is  it  worth  having  once 
more  and  is  it  worth  keeping?     Then  let  me  turn 
unfilled  from  earth  to  heaven,  and  cry 
"Jesus,  thou  Joy  of  loving  hearts, 

Thou  Fount  of  life,  thou  Light  of  men, 
From  the  best  bliss  that  earth  imparts 
We  turn  unfilled  to  thee  again," 
and  he  will  give  me  his  abiding  joy  within  my 
heart  —  joy  abundant,  joy  perennial,  joy  divine. 

-^ 
0  tl)ou  tofjo  bibst  cnburc  tt)t  cross  for  tte  jop 
set  before  tfjee!   ©pen  toitfjin  mp  fjeart  to=bap 
tfje  fountains  of  tijinc  eberflotoing  jop,  anb  3 
toiU  praise  tijee  forebcr  anb  a  bap! 


OCTOBER  FOURTEEN 


3Joi)n  16:  24.  J^itfjcrto  fjabe  pc  asbcb  notf)= 
ing  in  mp  name:  astfe,  anb  pe  gfjall  reccibe,  tJjat 
pour  ]op  map  be  mabe  full. 

jHRIST  is   teaching  his  disciples   the  im- 
periousness   of   faith.      "Ask,"    he    com- 
mands them;  "and  ye  shall  receive,"  he 
assures   them;    "that   your  joy   may   be 
made  full,"  he  explains  to  them;    "in  my  name," 

he  admonishes  them. 

-^ 

There  can  only  be  one  consistent  attitude 
toward  such  a  truth  as  this  on  the  part  of  the 
disciple.  Jesus  says,  "Ask!"  Have  I  asked, 
sincerely,  lovingly,  trustfully  and  persistently 
in  his  name?  It  may  be  that  I  have  a  spiritual- 
ized conception  of  prayer,  in  which  there  is  no 
place  for  petition.  It  may  be  that  I  am  so  pro- 
gressive in  my  thinking  that  I  have  gotten  beyond 
the  conception  of  "a  prayer-hearing  and  a  prayer- 
answering  God."  Prayer  may  have  become,  in 
my  case,  a  mystical  communion  of  my  soul  with  the 
great  "all-Soul,"  an  "'en  rapport'  of  my  fmitude 
with  the  Infinite."  If  I  have  seriously  come  to 
such  a  pass,  let  me  cry  out  in  dead  earnest,  "Save 
me,  Lord!"  Then,  the  God  of  the  Covenant,  who 
remembers  his  promises,  will  reach  down  into  the 
billows  of  my  distress  and  lift  me  out  and  put  my 
feet  upon  the  rock  of  the  divine  personahty  and 

the  immutable  promises. 

-^^ 

3Jc£(u£(,  3  tabe  not  ftonorcb  tf)P  name  because 
3J  babe  forgotten  to  agfa!  J^elp  me  tljis  bap  to 
fulfill  mp  jop  fap  asfbing  in  tfjp  name! 


OCTOBER  FIFTEEN 


lofjn  16:  25.  tEfjesc  tijings;  fjabc  3  gpofecn 
unto  pou  in  back  gapingg:  tfjc  tjour  comctfj, 
tofjcn  31  jsball  no  more  speab  unto  pou  in  barb 
gapingg,  but  fifjall  tell  pou  plainlp  of  tlje  Jfattjer. 

'^ 

'HERE  is  no  darkness  in  Truth.     She  is 

always  clad  in  garments  of  glory.     Whose 

then  are  these  "dark  sayings?"     Surely 

they  are   not  the  words   of  Jesus.     Let 


the  answer  be  an  illustration.  The  king  makes 
known  his  will  to  his  ambassador  by  a  secret  code. 
The  key  is  given  with  the  code  to  him  who  is  a 
trusted  servant  of  the  king.  To  the  enemy  of 
the  king  the  message  is  mystery;  to  the  servant  of 
the  king,  the  message  is  aglow  with  coherent 
thought,  with  royal  dignity,  with  sacred  tidings. 
Jesus  had  commissioned  his  disciples  as  ambassa- 
dors. He  was  teaching  them  his  secret  code. 
When  they  had  learned  that  by  heart,  he  would 
no  longer  need  to  teach  them  in  parables. 

The  "dark  sayings"  of  Jesus  are  only  dark  to 
those  who  have  not  been  enhghtened  by  his  illu- 
minating Spirit.  I  cannot  hope  to  fathom  his 
words  about  heaven  and  hell,  sin  and  salvation, 
reward  and  punishment,  if  I  am  still  in  the  dark- 
ness of  unbelief.  If  I  will  only  come  this  day, 
as  the  disciples  did  of  old,  into  the  measure  of  full 
discipleship,  I  will  be  able  to  testify  with  them, 
"Lo,  now  speakest  thou  plainly." 

0  tijou  tuJjo  art  tijc  Higljt  of  life!  SUumine 
tnp  barbness  bj>  tIjc  entrance  of  ttjp  iDorb  tuljicf) 
gibeti)  ligtjt! 


OCTOBER   SIXTEEN 


3fo!bn  16:  33.     tEtcfie  tbings;  babe  31  sfjpobcn 
unto  pou,  tfjat  in  me  pc  map  Jja^JC  peace. 

==7HE  preposition  is  important.  There  is 
no  peace  apart  from  Christ.  There  is 
peace  through  Christ:  there  is  also  peace 
with  Christ.     This  is  the  peace  to  which 


we  are  entitled  in  him.     If  we  are  in  the  citadel 

we  have  its  protection  and  security.     If  we  are 

in  the  conquering  army  we  share  the  fruits  of  its 

triumph.     If  we  are  in  Christ,  the  completeness 

of  his  peace  includes  us.     We  are  surrounded  by 

his  peace,  encircled  by  the  sweep  of  its  currents, 

shielded  by  the  cordon  of  its  sentinels,  guided  by 

its  legion  of  angels,  clad  in  the  garments  of  his 

seamless    righteousness,    crowned    with    his    own 

crown  of  glory. 

Jesus'  words  were  spoken  to  give  peace.     They 

have  never  ceased  to  fulfill  their  purpose.     Jesus 

says,  "Let  not  your  heart  be  troubled"  and  the 

palpitation  of  fear  passes  away,  and  we  are  strong. 

He  is  our  Peace. 

-^^ 

What,  then,  shall  he  said  of  me  if  I  turn  away 

to-day  from  the  living  fountain  of  peace  and  seek 

to  hew  out  a  cistern,  a  broken  cistern  that  can 

hold  no  water? 

Peace,  perfect  peace,  for  every  hour  and 

need? 

The  peace  in  Jesus  is  my  peace  indeed! 

<!D  prince  of  peace,  Icab  me  "besfibe  sftiU 
tuatersi "  anb  restore  mp  soul.  Jf or  tbp  name's 
jsabc! 


OCTOBER   SEVENTEEN 


f  ofjn  16:  33.  3ln  tlje  fcaorlb  pe  fjatie  tribu- 
lation: but  be  of  goob  ctccc;  3  fjabe  obcccome 
t\)t  toorlb. 

^,^?:==^NCE  more,  notice  the  Master's  tenses! 
Present  tribulation:  perfect  triumph, 
the  world  we  have  struggle,  toil,  tur- 
moil, trouble.  All  of  these  things  are 
spelled  for  us  in  the  language  of  to-day.  They  are 
upon  us  now.  They  are  pressing  creditors  that 
will  not  listen  to  any  three  days  of  grace.  They 
are  constantly  crying :   ' '  Pay !   Pay !   Pay ! ' ' 

Jesus  has  paid  it  all.  He  has  overcome  the 
world.  I  can  say  it  in  the  perfect  tense  of  tri- 
umph because  he  said  it  in  that  tense.  "Why 
does  not  Jesus  prevail?"  is  the  tormenting  cry 
that  often  greets  our  ears.  He  has  prevailed. 
We  are  facing  a  defeated  foe.  The  rage  of  our 
enemies  is  no  sign  of  their  triumph.  The  bravado 
and  bluster  of  evil  is  its  stock  in  trade.  Violence 
and  bloodshed,  even,  may  be  expected  at  the 
hands  of  those  who  have  been  brought  to  naught 
by  the  Spirit  and  by  the  servants  of  Christ. 
The  curse  of  negro  slavery  was  taken  away  from 
us  because  Jesus  had  long  ago  set  men  free.  The 
equally  devastating  slavery  of  intemperance  will 
soon  be  destroyed  because  Jesus  has  overcome 
the  world.  Let  his  enemies  laugh,  it  will  b6  but 
for  a  moment!     "Our  God  is  marching  on!" 

-^- 
€>  tfjou  tofjo  Ijast  leb  captibitp  captibc  anb  fjast 

obcrcome  tfje  toorlb!    ILct  mc  fig;}jt  bp  tbp  iitiC 

tl)i£f  Ubelong  bap! 


OCTOBER   EIGHTEEN 


5oj)n  17:  I.    tKljesc  ttjings  gpabc  HTessus;; 
anb   Uftins  up  ti^s  cpes;  to  i^tsCotn,  t)e  ffaid, 
jFatljer,  tf)c  fjour  ii  come;  glorifp  tljp  ^on,  tf)at 
rtjc  ^on  map  glorifp  tfjee. 
-^ 
IVINEST  hour!     The  harps  of  the  an- 
gehc  throng  are  hushed.     "The  suffer- 
ing Saviour  prays  alone!"     Take  off  thy 
shoes,  O  my  soul,  for  thou  art  walking 
upon  holy  ground! 

He  lifted  up  his  eyes  to  heaven.  It  was  a 
homeward  look  to  one  who  was  wearying  for  home. 
He  had  been  tabernacling  among  men  for  a  season. 
The  hour  had  come.  The  final  word  of  admoni- 
tion, of  comfort,  of  counsel  and  of  love  had  been 
spoken  to  his  own.  In  a  sohtude  of  suffering 
which  endless  ages  can  never  reveal  and  which 
was  all  for  me,  the  Son  of  God  poured  out  his 
soul  in  the  travail  of  "intercession  for  the  trans- 
gressors." 

There  is  a  vast  sense  in  which  no  single  verse 
of  this  marvelous  chapter  dare  be  made  my  own. 
There  is  another  and  a  blessed  way  in  which  it 
is  surely  meant  for  me.  It  is  mine  to  intercede, 
to  pray,  to  seek  the  face  of  God  for  the  souls  of 
men.  I  would  put  his  glory  first,  that  he  might 
cause  the  glory  which  I  have  seen  in  Christ  to 
be  reflected  in  me. 

^^ 

0  jFatfjer  of  an  infinite  majcsJtp!  tfSlorifp 
tfjpgclf  in  mc  tfjis  bap,  for  tfjinc  aborablc  ^on'js 
fiabe! 


OCTOBER    NINETEEN 


STofjn  17:  3.     Sinb  tljis  is  life  eternal,  tJjat 
tf)ep  sljouHi  fenota  tfjec  ttjc  onlp  true  <©oti,  anb 
tim  tototn  tfjou  bibst  genb,  eben  Jefius  Cfjrist. 
-^' 
"^NTO  what  vistas  of  truth  the  Master  entered 
as  he  prayed !     Even  men  when  they  devoutly 
pray  are  often  given  absorbing  ghmpses  of 
the   spiritual   world.     Jesus   needed   only   to 
open  his  eyes,  and  all  of  the  glory  of  God  burst 
upon   him   hke   a   flood.     It   is   a   tribute   to   his 
divine  lordship  that  in  the  moments  of  highest 
and  deepest  ecstasy  he  uttered  the  most  exact 
truths.     When  we  are  swept  from  our  feet  even 
by    a    holy    passion,    our   words    become    stupid 
messengers    of   our   rapt    spirits.     Jesus,    on    the 
other  hand,  in  the  supreme  hour  of   his  fmal  in- 
tercession enunciated  in  the  simplest  and  clearest 
terms  the  message  God  had  given  him  to  declare. 

Men  of  worldly  wisdom  have  other  ideas  about 
eternal  hfe.  They  explain  it  by  scientific  allu- 
sions, poetic  imagery,  philosophical  analyses. 
Eucken  and  Bergson  confirm  our  faith  in  an 
idealistic  universe.  We  are  naturally  more  pleased 
ta  have  them  as  allies  than  as  opponents.  Have 
they,  however,  added  anything  to  Jesus?  Is 
the  universal  "urge"  more  real  than  the  Holy 
Spirit?  For  me,  Jesus  has  spoken  with  authority. 
To  know  the  Father  and  the  Son,  this  is  eternal 

hfe. 

'^- 

0  tfjou,  tobo,  prat'ins,  fjast  taugfjt  ug  to 
prap  anb  tofacliebc!  3  Ijabc  founb  eternal  life  in 
ti)c  one  true  (Sob  anb  in  tjjce  tofjom  f)e  i)ai  sent! 


OCTOBER    TWENTY 


M 


Sfoljn  17:  4.  3  glorifieb  tijtt  on  tfjc  eartfj, 
Ijabing  accompltgt^b  ti)£  toork  tQl)tc{)  ttou  t^sit 
gtben  me  to  bo. 

ESUS  puts  upon  the  altar  of  the  Father's 
glory  a  completed  earthly  work.  He  has 
drawn  together  all  the  threads  of  the  finished 
fabric.  The  outline  of  a  cross  appears  woven 
into  its  warp  and  woof.  There  are  crimson  cords 
and  strands  of  royal  purple  and  priestly  white. 
Hov/  pitiful  are  the  judgments  of  man!  What  of 
Jesus  and  his  finished  work?  Answer,  Pilate! 
"A  wasted,  well-meaning  fife!"  Make  your  reply 
Herod,  the  apostate!  "Ha!  ha!  —  This  Jesus  is 
a  fool!"  What  say  you,  Israel,  after  the  flesh? 
"He  is  'a  root  out  of  a  dry  ground:  he  hath  no 
form  nor  comeliness;  .  .  .  there  is  no  beauty 
that  we  should  desire  him!'"  What  of  Jesus, 
Mistress  Roma,  on  thy  seven  hills  of  profligate 
pomp  and  power?  "Who  is  Jesus?  I  neither 
know  nor  care!"  What  of  Jesus,  Spirit  of  the 
living  God?  "He  is  Lord  of  lords,  and  King  of 
kings."  He  has  finished  the  work  of  redemption. 
He  has  woven  out  of  the  very  fibers  of  his  flesh 
and  stained  with  his  precious  blood  the  garments 
of  the  world's  only  salvation. 

What  of  Jesus,  O  my  soul?  He  is  my  Saviour 
and  my  Friend.  His  finished  work  is  mine  by 
faith.     All  that  I  need  I  find  in  him. 

©  tf)ou  iufjo  unto  t))c  bcatl)  bibst  bo  tijp 
jFatber's  fjolp  toill!  (gibe  me  tfjc  fellotasfjip  o! 
tl)p  finififjcb  toorfe  tljat  31  map  fintsl)  mine  in  tfjp 
name  anb  spirit! 


OCTOBER  TWENTY-ONE 


3fotn  17:  5.  Sinb  notn,  Jfatfjer,  glorifp  tfjou 
mc  toitlj  tljinc  otun  self  toitf)  ttc  glorp  tol)uft  3 
i)ab  toitt)  ttjee  before  ttje  tuodb  toasf. 

SIMPLE  illustration  may  unlock  this 
truth.  A  forlorn  and  forsaken  waif  of 
the  streets  is,  unexpectedly,  met  by 
some  man  or  woman  who  becomes 
an  angel  of  mercy.  The  ministry  may  be  brief 
but  it  will  be  blessed.  It  becomes  the  means  of 
putting  new  heart  in  the  castaway  and  may  be  the 
beginning  of  a  career  of  usefulness.  If  such  a 
result  could  flow  from  the  contact  of  a  moment, 
what  influences  would  come  to  those  who  lived  in 
constant  and  conscious  contact  with  the  One  who 
was  an  angel  of  mercy.  How  much  more  the 
members  of  the  family  circle  and  intimate  friends 
would  appreciate  the  true  worth  of  such  a  noble 
soul!  So  it  was  with  the  glory  of  Jesus.  Men 
who  caught  fleeting  glimpses  of  it  were  moved, 
inspired,  redeemed.  What  must  have  been  the 
full  revelation  of  that  glory,  which  only  the 
Father  knew  in  all  its  fullness! 

The  hall-mark  of  truth  is  upon  this  sacred 
WDrd.  His  preexistent  glory  with  the  Father 
for  which  he  prayed  has  been  confirmed  by  a 
thousand  tokens  of  genuineness.  The  glory  of  the 
eternal  Father  shines  full  orbed  in  the  face  of  the 
only-begotten  Son  who  is  full  of  grace  and  truth! 

0  ttou  to{)0  bibst  prap  for  the  glorp  tljat  toag 
tfjine  fap  eternal  rigftt!  j^ebcal  tljat  self=samc 
glorp  to  me  tf)is  bap! 


OCTOBER  TWENTY-TWO 

5oljn  17:  6.  3  manifegtcb  tfjp  name  unto 
tlje  men  totjom  tfjou  gabest  me  out  of  tfje  toorlb: 
t^ine  tijcp  toere,  anb  tfjou  gabest  tjjem  to  me; 
anb  tfjep  Jjafae  kept  tfjp  tuotb. 

'HE  gospel  is  God's  free  gift.  The  circle 
of  giving,  however,  is  not  completed  by 
the  giving  of  good  tidings  to  men.  The 
Father  perfects  the  circle  of  love  by  giving 
a  ransomed  race  to  the  Son  as  the  trophy  of  his 
redeeming  love.  The  believing  child  of  the  Father 
is  his  gift  to  the  Son.  Jesus,  looking  up  into  the 
Father's  face  and  looking  out  upon  the  faces  of 
those  whom  he  had  called  and  kept,  could 
cry,  "I  manifested  thy  name."  God  was  his 
Father  but  in  a  vaster  and  more  stupendous  sense 
than  God  is  the  Father  of  men.  God  is  their 
Father  because  he  has  called  them  into  being  and 
because  he  has  given  them  to  the  Son. 

New  strength  comes  to  me  at  this  very  moment 
with  the  realization  that  I  have  been  given  to  my 
Lord  and  Saviour  as  truly  as  he  has  been  given  to 
me.  He  is  willing  to  be  bound  by  the  terms  of 
a  divine  and  eternal  trust.  He  has  covenanted 
to  reveal  the  Father's  name  and  glory  to  me.  '  It 
is  my  holy  privilege  to  testify  that  he  has  not  failed 
in  anything  to  do  the  Father's  will. 

0  Jfatfjer,  3  praise  tfjcc  for  tf)P  manifcfitelr 
glorp  in  'Stiui  CfjriBt!  jHap  3  be  one  bofjo 
Iteepsi  ti)P  bjort  anb  bii)o  tbuiet  is  tijtne  inbeeb! 


OCTOBER    TWENTY-THREE 


fotjn  17:  9.  3  prap  for  tljem:  3  prap  not 
for  tfje  toorlD,  but  for  tljosie  tufjom  tftou  Ijafit 
gibctt  mc;  for  tfjcp  arc  t\)int. 

iHRIST  draws  eternal  distinctions.  On 
the  one  side  is  the  world  for  which  he  does 
not  pray:  on  the  other  his  own  for  whom 
he  prays.  There  is  nothing  clearer  in 
the  gospel  than  the  selective  love  of  Jesus.  All 
true  love  is  discriminating.  We  are  incHned  to 
protest  against  the  divine  doctrine  of  "electing 
love"  because  we  read  into  it  unworthy  motives 
and  bases  of  discrimination.  All  love  discrimi- 
nates, but  divine  love  alone  discriminates  with 
absolute  righteousness.  Jesus  has  a  divine  right 
to  love  his  own,  to  pray  for  them,  to  lay  down 
his  hfe  for  them.  He  does  no  injustice  to  "the 
world."  All  day  long  he  stretched  out  his  hands 
to  a  gainsaying  world,  saying,  "Come  unto  me" 
and  the  world  would  not  come  unto  him  that  it 
might  have  life. 

If  this  word  were  all,  I  might  be  led  to  say  that 
the  Master  had  in  view  only  those  who  were  with 
him  in  the  days  of  the  flesh.  In  another  moment, 
Jt)hn  17:  20,  he  makes  it  perfectly  plain  that  he 
was  thinking  of  and  praying  for  those  who  would 
follow  him  during  all  the  days  and  years  to  come. 
I  will  pray  for  myself  with  added  power  to-day,  be- 
cause my  Master  prayed  and  still  intercedes  for  me. 

0  tfjou  tofjo  bitist  prap  for  tljinc  oton!  Jflakc 
me  anlJ  beep  me  tl)ine  otan  true  foUotoer,  noto 
anti  etjer! 


OCTOBER    TWENTY-FOUR 


SfoJjn  17:  9, 10.  Jfoc  Hjcp  arc  tjjmc,  ani  all 
tl)ing£(  tf)at  arc  mine  arc  tfjinc:  anb  tljinc  ate 
mine:  anb  3  am  glorifieb  in  ttjem. 

O  lawyer  pleading  a  case  before  the 
Supreme  Court  ever  prepared  a  more 
perfect  brief  than  Jesus  offered  in  his 
intercessory  prayer.  He  laid  down 
eternal  principles,  adduced  verified  facts  and  drew 
indisputable  conclusions.  Since  everything  was 
at  stake,  his  divine  inheritance,  his  kingly  crown, 
his  ransomed  race,  he  must  demonstrate  his  right 
to  the  title.  He  must  secure  a  certified  abstract 
with  the  last  vestige  of  cloud  removed.  How 
cogently  he  reasons,  how  freely  he  pleads,  how 
triumphantly  he  wins  his  case!  All  that  the 
Father  has  is  his.  All  that  is  his  is  the  Father's 
own.     He  justifies  his  standing  as  the  Son. 

Let  me  find  comfort  to-day  in  the  token  of  the 
truth  which  presents  Jesus  as  my  advocate,  win- 
ning my  case,  clearing  my  title,  securing  for  me 
the  divine  "inheritance  incorruptible,  and  unde- 
filed,  and  that  fadeth  not  away."  If,  even,  this 
parable  of  the  truth  should  be  too  dark  for  me  let 
me  revel  in  the  simple  truth  that  I  am  his,  and 
he  is  mine,  and  that  I  belong  to  God  as  truly  as  I 
belong  to  Christ.  With  such  a  holy  truth  to  in- 
spire me,  I  ought  to  live  a  peaceful  and  fruitful 
life  this  day. 

0  tfjou,  mv  goul's;  ^bbotatc!  3J  praise  tftee 
for  tlje  toinning  of  mv  taatl  tCjjou  Ijasit  toon  mel 
iWap  3  be  tculp  tfjine! 


OCTOBER    TWENTY-FIVE 


3Iotn  17:  U.  Slnb  3J  am  no  more  in  tfje 
toorlb,  anb  ttjEfic  arc  in  tfje  taorlb,  anb  3  tome 
to  tijec.  ?(?olj»  Jfatfjcr,  beep  tftcm  in  tjjp  name 
tobict)  tfjou  ftafit  gilien  me,  tfjat  tftcp  map  be 
one,  eben  a&  toe  are. 

'HE  shadows  of  Gethsemane  gather  and  fall 
across  His  pathway.  He  speaks  as  if 
his   time   had   come.     Like  the  eminent 


^^  surgeon  who  withdraws  from  the  tur- 
moil and  the  strain  of  the  world  into  that  sohtude 
of  cleanness  which  is  the  prerequisite  of  healing 
skill,  so  the  Cure  of  the  souls  of  men  withdrew 
from  the  polluting  things  of  the  world  that  he 
might  prepare  to  give  himself  a  ransom  for  many. 
In  the  deeper  intimacy  of  his  suffering  love,  he 
calls  upon  his  Father  by  a  new  and  significant 
name,  "Holy  Father."  We  have  our  ideas  about 
hohness.  We  call  it  an  "incommunicable  attri- 
bute" of  God,  that  is,  an  attribute  that  he  cannot 
share  with  any  other.  He  can  reflect  his  wisdom, 
power  and  love,  but  his  holiness  is  his  wholeness 
or  his  completeness.  It  is  the  summing  up  in 
absolute  perfection  of  all  those  attributes  that 
make  him  God. 

I  cannot,  dare  not  pray  as  Jesus  did.  Yet  Jesus 
bids  me  draw  near  even  to  the  throne  of  God, 
weak  and  imperfect  as  I  may  be.  The  access  is 
not  mine  but  his. 

0  li^olp  jfatfjer!  accept  mj>  person  anb  mp 
jscrbice,  forgibing  freelp  all  mp  sins,  for  tfjp 
S>on's!  gafae! 


OCTOBER    TWENTY-SIX 


3rof)n  17:  12.  Mitile  3  toast  toitf)  tbem,  3 
kept  tbcm  in  tf)p  name  tofjicl)  ttou  bas^t  Qiben 
me:  an!)  3  guarbeb  tfiem,  anb  not  one  of  tfjcm 
pcrisfteli.  but  tfte  £!on  of  perbition;  tljat  tftc  scrip= 
ture  migfjt  be  fulfillcli. 

^^ 
EPT  and  guarded!  The  one  has  chiefly 
to  do  with  perils  that  are  within;  the 
other  to  do  with  dangers  that  attack 
from  without.  The  Master  while  he 
the  world  both  kept  and  guarded  his 
Jesus  kept  his  disciples  from  the  conse- 
quences of  their  own  weakness  and  sins.  This 
is  not  to  say  that  he  lifted  them  above  the  neces- 
sity of  suffering  and  discipline.  Peter  paid 
bitterly  for  his  foolish  pride,  but  he  was  kept  from 
its  final,  fatal  consequences.  The  Master  also 
guarded  his  own  from  innumerable  attacks  from 
without.  The  unbelief  of  his  day,  the  self-right- 
eousness of  the  Pharisees  and  scribes,  the  fickleness 
of  the  crowd,  all  laid  siege  to  the  disciples'  hearts. 

Jesus  guarded  them  night  and  day, 

-^^ 
The  Holy  Spirit  is  the  never-failing  keeper  and 
guard  of  the  disciples  of  Christ.  He  subdues, 
disciplines,  admonishes  the  inward  life  and  saves 
us  from  the  full  consequence  of  our  own  sins-  by 
implanting  new  motives  in  our  hearts.  He  also 
builds  around  us  a  wall  of  fire,  and  guards  us  from 
the  evil  one,  whose  only  access  will  be  through  the 
door  of  self-will  that  we  may  treacherously  open. 

0  mtgfjtp  anb  merciful  Spirit!  W.ecp  anb 
Buarb  mp  soul,  toitbin  anb  toitljout,  tf)is  bap  of 
tcating;  anb  sabe  me  for  Cfjrist's  fiabel 


OCTOBER    TWENTY-SEVEN 

3Fof)n  17:  15.  3  prap  not  tftat  tljou  sfjoullicst 
take  tl)em  from  Hjc  toorlb,  but  tfjat  tijou  sfjoulii- 
cst  beep  tfjem  from  tlje  ebil  one. 

=^HE  whole  program  of  the  Christian  life 
is  outlined  in  this  double  petition  of 
Christ.  We  are  to  be  in  the  world,  but 
not  of  it.  The  ship  is  to  be  in  the  water: 
that  is  where  it  belongs  so  long  as  it  does  the  work 
of  a  ship.  It  is  disaster  when  the  water  gets 
into  the  ship.  So  the  Christian  is  to  be  in  the 
world.  He  must  mingle  with  its  elements  without 
being  contaminated  by  them.  He  must  help  to 
heal  the  world's  diseases  without  himself  being 
stricken.  He  must  keep  company  with  the  pil- 
grims of  the  way,  but  his  citizenship  is  in  heaven. 

The  temptation  to  which  we  are  prone  is  to  run 
away  from  evil.  Let  us  go  to  a  convent,  a  mon- 
astery, a  retreat!  That  will  ordinarily  fail  in  two 
respects.  It  will  not  take  us  away  from  the  evil 
that  is  in  our  own  hearts:  and  it  will  remove  us 
from  that  appointed  battle  ground  where  we  are 
to  win  our  trophies.    ' 

'^ 

Jesus  prayed  in  my  behalf.  He  felt  the  burden 
of  my  pressing,  daily  need.  I  will  be  in  the  midst 
of  the  world  to-day,  but  I  must  not  be  of  it.  Only 
as  I  hide  his  word  in  my  heart  and  live  moment  by 
moment  in  his  strength  alone,  shall  I  be  saved. 

0  Mastttl  ^abe  mc  not  from  tJjc  Inorli), 
but  from  ti)e  cbil  tijat  ii  toitfjtn  anb  taJitijout! 


OCTOBER    TWENTY-EIGHT 


5of)n  17:  17.    ^anttifp  tljcm  in  tlje  trutfj: 
tf)p  toorb  ig  trutf). 

|ONSECRATION  involves  several  things. 
First,  a  thing  of  value  to  be  set  apart, 
whether  it  be  service  or  self.  Ulti- 
mately we  must  consecrate  ourselves 
in  our  service.  Permanent  value  is  not  in  things 
but  in  souls!  Second,  a  thing  unto  which  to  be  set 
apart.  It  must  be  real,  worthy,  satisfying. 
Third,  things  from  which  to  be  set  apart.  The 
very  act  implies  separation.  We  are  bound  to 
things  from  which  we  need  to  be  set  free.  Fourth, 
and  equally  important,  the  thing  or  power  in  which 
or  by  which  we  shall  be  set  apart.  All  of  the  other 
elements  are  useless  unless  there  is  some  impelling, 
compelling  force  to  set  us  free.  Jesus  prayed 
the  fourfold  prayer  in  one.  The  disciples  were 
themselves  to  be  set  apart  from  the  world,  unto 
him.  The  motive  power  was  to  be  the  truth. 
The  word  of  God  was  the  channel  by  means  of 
which  the  power  was  to  flow  into  their  lives. 
Have  I  been  set  apart  this  day?  There  is  some- 
thing in  me  which  ought  to  be  sanctified,  even  my 
very  self.  There  is  a  worthy  One  to  whom  I 
ought  to  be  set  apart,  even  Christ.  There  are  a 
thousand  things;  sins,  weights,  fears,  doubts, 
from  which  I  ought  to  be  set  free.  There  is  the 
living  word  of  God  which  is  able  to  set  me  free  and 
to  set  me  apart.     Why  do  I  longer  wait? 

€>  tljou^anttiftcr  of  tlje  faitljful!   ^et  mc 
apart  from  tljc  kuorlti  anb  toittj  Cbrisft  to  tiap! 


OCTOBER    TWENTY-NINE 


3Jof)n  17:  20.  iTtcttftcr  fot  tf)cs;e  onlp  bo  3 
ptap,  but  for  tfjcm  also  tfjat  belicbc  on  mc 
tjjrousb  tf)cic  tooriJ. 

'HAT  a  multitude  has  believed  "through 
their  word"!  Call  the  roll  of  the 
centuries!  Not  one  of  them  is  missing. 
Call  the  races  and  nations  by  name! 
By  the  miUions  they  respond,  of  every  language, 
tribe,  clime,  and  color.  Call  the  roll  of  the  in- 
stitutions of  earth!  Government,  education,  phi- 
lanthropy. Not  one  but  has  come  under  the  power 
of  the  matchless  name.  Call  the  roll  of  the 
books  of  whose  making  there  is  no  end,  and  pre- 
eminent as  the  sun  in  earthly  heavens  is  the  Book 
of  their  testimony.  Call  the  roll  of  the  rich  and 
the  poor,  of  sages  and  poets,  of  kings  and  rulers, 
of  the  mighty  and  the  obscure,  of  men,  women 
and  children!  From  a  myriad  million  hearts  and 
lips  bursts  the  glad  cry,  "  We  have  believed  because 
of  their  word." 

Call  the  roll  again,  0  Lord,  and  I  will  answer 
to  my  name.  I,  too,  have  believed  "through 
their  word."  Their  witness  under  the  power  of 
the  Holy  Spirit  has  won  my  heart.  Thy  prayer 
has  been  answered  for  me,  for  I  believe  on  thy 
name.  I  would  this  day  become  a  living  hnk  in 
the  chain  by  which  others  shall  believe  on  thee. 

0  Jflagtcr  of  potocr  in  tfjc  mastcrp  of  prapcrl 
a  prats(c  tbee  tfjat  3  fjaUe  facUctJcb  on  tJjcc  tfjrougf) 
tijeit  taorb!  jjflabc  me  tJjp  toitncsg  in  mp  bap 
anb  generation,  for  tf)p  lobe's  Sake! 


OCTOBER    THIRTY 


3!o\)n  17:  21.  tICfjat  tijep  map  all  fae  one; 
cben  as  tJjou,  jFatber,  art  in  mc,  anb  31  in  tfjee, 
tfjat  ttjep  also  map  be  in  u£(:  tf)at  tfje  tooclti 
map  bclieljc  tljat  tftou  bibst  £(cnb  mc. 

'HE  glory  of  this  marvelous  entreaty  is 
its  climax.  The  perfect  oneness  which 
the  Master  sought  to  reproduce  in  them 
was  in  order  that  the  world  might  believe 


in  him  as  the  One  sent  of  God.  The  tragedy  of 
the  truth,  however,  is  that  its  glory  has  been 
turned  into  shame.  The  greatest  single  stumbling- 
block  to  the  progress  of  Christ's  kingdom  among 
men  is  the  failure  of  those  who  name  his  name  to 
live  with,  and  to  love  one  another  like  brethren. 

One  further  thing  adds  if  possible  to  the  tragedy. 
Those  of  us  who  pretend  to  be  most  grieved  over 
the  lack  of  Christianity  are  so  often  devoid  of 
its  real  spirit.  It  is  almost  classic  for  any  appeal 
for  the  unity  of  the  Church  to  end  with  the  solemn 
exhortation,  "And  what  branch  of  the  Church  is 
so  admirably  fitted  to  absorb  all  the  other  branches 
as  my  own?"  If  one  is  our  Master  and  we  all  are 
brethren,  then  our  chiefest,  daily  duty  and  delight 
should  be  to  become  one  with  every  other  disciple 
of  Christ  of  whatever  outward  name,  in  order 
that  the  world  may  believe. 

'^■ 

0  iHlagter!  tljou  fjasft  laib  u{)on  mc  a  large 
loab!  jForfaib  tljat  bp  failing  or  refuging  to 
bear  it,  3  gljoulb  bistljonor  ttjcc  anb  caudc  ottjers 
to  £ftumble! 


OCTOBER    THIRTY-ONE 


fofjit  17:  24.  jFatbcr,  3  bcgirc  ttat  tfjep 
also  b)!]om  ttou  tasft  gibcn  me  be  faoiti)  me  tobere 
21  am,  tfjat  tf)cp  map  faefjolb  mp  glorp,  tDtjitlj 
tf)ou  ta£tt  gttien  me. 

7  HE  Lord  of  glory  could  not  hoard  his 
treasure.  His  intercessory  desire  was 
that  those  who  had  been  given  to  him  in 
earthly  discipleship  might  be  given  to  him 
in  heavenly  fellowship.  He  did  not  regard  his 
glory  as  a  thing  to  keep,  but  as  a  thing  to  share. 
Love  always  seeks  to  lavish  itself  upon  those  whom 
it  calls  its  own.  The  love  of  the  Master  was  lav- 
ish of  his  glory. 

There  are  those  to-day  who  stumble  at  this 
prayer  of  Jesus.  They  are  sure  that  his  prayer 
could  not  have  been  taken  down  in  shorthand; 
therefore  the  whole  chapter  and  the  whole  gospel 
is  a  fabrication,  even  though  it  be  from  the  pen  of 
a  sympathetic  disciple.  They  overlook  the  vital 
fact  that  personality  is  not  communicated  through 
shorthand  reports,  but  in  the  words  and  lives  of 
friends.  The  whole  question  is  this:  Is  the  friend 
competent,  through  familiarity,  intelhgence,  sym- 
pathy and  veracity,  to  represent  the  One  for  whom 
he  speaks?  The  Fourth  Gospel  is  self-evidencing. 
The  intercessory  prayer  of  the  seventeenth  chap- 
ter breathes  forth  the  spirit  of  the  Son  of  God. 

0  Cfjn'sft  of  <©ob!  3  gee  tfjec  in  tfjp  glorp. 
IRcbeal  tfjpscU  to  me  more  afaunbantlp  bap  fap 
bap! 


NOVEMBER    ONE 


SFofjn  17:  24.  jFor  tfjou  lobebst  me  before 
tlje  founbatton  of  tije  tnoclb. 

"^ESUS  used  the  vernacular  of  his  day.  He 
spoke  of  the  "foundation  of  the  world."  He 
talked  of  love  in  terms  of  time.  He  did  all 
J^  of  this  because  it  is  the  language  of  our  mor- 
tality. He  was  loved  "before  the  foundation 
of  the  world"!  Yes,  and  before  the  morning  stars 
sang  for  joy,  before  the  fire  mist  floated  out 
through  interstellar  ether,  inchoate^  pervasive, 
primordial;  before  the  first  faint  blush  of  dawn 
stole  over  the  face  of  the  dead  abyss,  before  the 
beginning  of  time,  in  the  beginning  of  all  begin- 
nings, he  was  the  eternal,  only-begotten,  well- 
beloved  Son.  It  is  not  the  greatness  and  the 
divinity  of  Christ  that  baffle  us  the  most.  The 
wonder  is  that  he  submits  himself  to  the  caresses 
of  our  imperfect,  finite  love. 

How  much  do  I  really  know  about  the  "foun- 
dation of  the  world?"  Astronomy,  geology, 
biology  all  have  something  to  say,  partly  fact, 
partly  conjecture,  however  plausible.  Power  was 
there,  they  all  affirm,  and  also  wisdom.  What 
about  the  "foundation  of  the  world,"  O  Lord  of 
life?  "I  was  there  and  love  was  there  and  God 
was  there!"  I  believe  thy  word,  thou  Christ 
of  the  Gospels  and  thou  Christ  of  God! 

0  tijou  tnbo  bibst  lap  tlje  founbation  of  tftc 
tDorlb  in  lobe!  31  babe  also  Irarncb  tljp  toisbom 
anb  t\)v  potocr  tbrougt)  tjim  tui)o  is  tijine  eternal 
g>on,  mp  ^abiour  anb  mp  iWaster! 


NOVEMBER    TWO 


fofjn  17:  25.  ©dsbtEoufi!  Jfatfter,  tfjetoorlli 
bnett)  tbee  not,  but  It  knetao  tijee;  ant)  tljeste  bnetn 
tbat  tijou  liiDsft  stent)  mc. 

"^^HE  Saviour  ended  his  prayer  as  he  began 
it,  by  crying  to  his  Father,  "Father," 
"Holy  Father,"  and  now  finally  "Right- 
eous Father."     This  is  the  chmax  of  it 


all,   to  make  known  his  Father's  name  to  those 

who  were  loved  of  him.     Such  a  revelation  of  the 

Father's  love  and  power  he  has  made  known  to 

me. 

'^ 

0  righteous  Father,  how  much  of  unright- 
eousness there  is  still  in  me!  My  sins  are  many 
and  grievous.  They  beset  me  behind  and  before. 
They  lie  in  wait  at  the  gates  of  my  soul.  They 
meet  me  at  every  turn  of  the  way.  I  confess 
them  freely  and  fully  unto  thee,  for  thou  hast 
provided  a  righteousness  that  prevails.  In  the 
days  to  come  when  I  shall  be  heavy-hearted  and 
full  of  care,  let  me  fmd  my  way  back  into  the 
heart  of  the  interceding  Saviour  who  prayed  for 
me.  In  the  hour  of  trial  may  I  turn  again  to  him 
and  pray  with  him.  When  I  must  bear  some 
heavy  cross,  enter  some  lonely  garden  of  grief, 
O  Master  of  mine,  walk  with  me  I  beseech  thee  in 
the  path  of  prayer.  Teach  me  thy  holy  will,  thy 
holy  calm,  thy  holy  joy,  and  I  will  be  the  faithful, 
forgiven  follower,  not  in  my  strength,  but  for  thy 
name's  sake. 

€>  viBbtcous;  Jfatfjer!  (Errant  tfjese  anb  tijc 
unuttcrcti  prapere;  of  mj>  Ijcart  for  tfjp  ^on's 
Kalte! 


NOVEMBER    THREE 


STobn  18:  I.     Mfjcn  STesus  jjab  gpokcn  ttjcse 
toorbg,  t)C  tocnt  fortf)  toitfj  i)i&  bisciples  ober  tfjc 
btoob  Eibton,  baljcre  toast  a  garbcn,  into  tobiclj 
l)e  enteteti,  i)im£(elf  anb  i)i£(  btgciplesi. 
-^ 

=°^HE  tragedy  that  was  about  to  be  enacted 
demanded  a  stage  more  ample  than  an 
upper  room.  Out  under  the  canopy  of 
God,   whose    silent    stars,   like    sentinels, 


peered  through  the  leafy  darkness  in  the  amaze- 
ment of  horror,  was  soon  to  come  to  pass  the 
blackest  deed  of  human  hand.  It  was  fitting  in 
his  sight  that  in  such  a  place  he  should  begin  to 
drink  the  cup  of  his  Father's  will.  When  he  had 
spoken  his  final  words  the  Saviour  went  forth  in 
the  gentle  majesty  of  God.  The  grass  that  bent 
beneath  his  feet  caressed  them  as  they  passed; 
the  winds  whispered  peace  to  his  breaking  heart. 
The  solitude  of  the  Garden  was  astir  with  the 
tramp  of  legions  of  angels;  yet  Jesus  went  into 
the  Garden  to  bear  his  grief,  alone. 

It  is  not  easy  to  cross  the  Kidron  with  my 
Saviour.  There  are  burdens  for  me  to  bear; 
there  is  watching  and  prayer.  There  are,  alas, 
weaknesses  of  the  flesh;  there  are  base  denials, 
cowardly  withdrawals,  treacherous  betrayals. 
May  I  not  falter  or  fail  in  the  day  of  my  trial! 
"I'll  go  with  him  through  the  Garden,  I'll 
go  with  him  all  the  way." 

-SI*' 

0  Ctrisit  of  tf)e  (Sarbcn!  iWp  faitfj  toill  f)abc 
its  (S^etfjscmanc!  prepare  me  for  tfjat  fjour  of 
trial  ttjat  3  map  not  in  anp  toap  bi^bonor  tijeel 


NOVEMBER    FOUR 


3Jo\)n  18:  3.  ^lubas  ttjcn,  tabing  recdUeb 
ttje  faanb  oC  golliieto.  anb  officetEi  from  tftc  cfjief 
pricst£(  anil  ttc  |)Jjarisces.  comctf)  tijitfjec  tnitl) 
lantctng  anli  torches  anb  toeapons. 

'HAT  a  motley  throng!  Roman  soldiers, 
members  of  the  Jewish  temple  guard, 
the  military  tribune  and  over  them 
all,  Judas  the  traitor.  What  a  seeth- 
ing, hissing  caldron  of  hell  must  have  been  in 
Judas'  heart!  The  flickering  lanterns,  the  flaring 
torches,  the  clashing  swords  and  spears  and  the 
clanking  chains  give  a  more  gruesome  setting  than 
ever  Shakspere  prepared  for  Macbeth,  with  the 
weird  sisters  dancing  about  the  caldron  of  disas- 
ter. Fear  often  prompts  us  to  needless  precaution. 
It  would  have  been  an  easy  thing  for  the  officers 
to  have  taken  Jesus  without  the  display  of  force 
but  they  did  not  know  it.  The  very  presence  of 
the  soldiers  is  Judas'  tacit  testimony  to  the  faith 
of  the  disciples.  He  knew  them  well  and  knew 
that  they  would  fight  for  their  Master.  So  they 
would  and  so  they  did  until  the  Master  left  them 
undone  with  his  prohibition.  The  Gospel  record 
does  not  philosophize  much  about  Judas.  The 
treason  itself  was  enough,  no  matter  how  it  was 
accomplished.  In  any  event  the  hiss  of  the  ser- 
pent can  be  heard  in  Judas'  kiss. 

0  iHaster,  3  remember  f)oto  eacfj  of  tfjp  bijf- 
tiples  saib,  "M  it  31?"  3  prap  no  sin  of  treatft- 
erp  map  finb  lobgmcnt  in  mp  breast,  ^abe 
tt)ou  me  for  ttp  namc'g  gabel 


NOVEMBER    FIVE 


u 


3Fofjn  18:  4,  5,  6.  Efcsug  tfjcrcfore.  fenotD= 
ing  all  tfte  tftings  ttjat  bacre  coming  upon  fjim, 
faoent  focti),  anti  gait!)  unto  tt)cm,  2t9Ibom  gceU 
j>c?  ®f)ep  ansfcoercb  ijim,  3t&M  of  ^ajarctf). 
°Stim  saitf)  unto  tftem,  3  am  f)e.  Sinb  3Jutias; 
also,  tol)o  faetrapciJ  ftim,  hjas  fitanbing  toit!) 
tJjcm.  3Hf)cn  tterefore  ije  saib  unto  tfjcm.  3  am 
fje,  tf)cp  bocnt  bacbtoarb,  anb  fell  to  tlje  grounb. 

VST 

ESUS  was  not  taken  captive.  When  his  hour 
had  come,  he  gave  himself  up  to  the  cords  and 
the  rods,  to  the  pain  and  the  shame  and  to 
the  cross.  He  had  power  to  lay  down  his  life 
and  power  to  take  it  up  again.  Jesus  was  not  a 
mere  martyr.  Hugo's  saint,  Jean  Valjean,  when 
the  intoxication  of  the  tomb  was  upon  him,  cried 
out  as  he  entered  the  presence  of  God,  "There 
is  the  great  martyr!"  pointing  to  the  simple  crucifix 
upon  the  wall.  He  was  right  in  the  spirit  of  his 
appeal  and  his  approach  to  Jesus,  whose  spirit 
had  changed  and  glorified  his  life.  He  was  wrong 
in  calling  Jesus'  death  martyrdom. 

There  is  another  blessed  word  that  greets  one 
in  this  Gospel  record.  His  sohcitude  for  his  dis- 
ciples was  uppermost.  "I  told  you  that  I  am  he; 
if  therefore  ye  seek  me,  let  these  go  their  way." 
How  marvelous  a  Master!  How  sublime  a 
Saviour!  How  mindful  a  Friend!  Truly  the 
word  which  he  spake  was  fulfilled.  He  lost  not 
one.     He  will  not  lose  even  me. 

(£>  tf)ou,  before  tofjom  angelsf  beil  tijcir  faces 
anb  before  b)i)om  men  of  olb  fell  bobm  as  beab! 
ILet  tfjp  glorp  meet  mp  cpest  tftrougb  faitfj! 


NOVEMBER    SIX 


Slo\)n  \3:  II.  SfcsuB!  tljctcforc  iaib  unto 
$eter,  $ut  up  ti)t  sbaocb  into  tift  si)tat\):  tte 
cup  baf)icl)  tlje  Jfatfjer  ijatf)  giben  mc,  6\)aU  31 
not  brink  it? 

'HE  Prince  of  peace  had  emblazoned  upon 
his  shield  the  heraldic  symbol  of  a 
sheathed  sword  and  a  drained  cup.  In 
the     power    of    this     double    token    he 


went  forth  "conquering  and  to  conquer."  The 
sheathed  sword  is  the  sign  and  seal  of  the  worldly 
power  which  he  put  beneath  his  feet.  He  knew 
the  dominion  of  the  sword,  "the  right"  that  is 
"made  by  might."  He  beheld  the  ages  and  he 
beholds  our  sad  world  to-day  groaning  under  a 
tyranny  whose  fittest  token  was  the  dripping 
sword.  Therefore  he  cried,  "'Put  up  the  sword 
into  the  sheath,'  O  Peter  of  human  ambition  and 
resources!"  The  drained  cup  is  the  token  and 
testimony  of  his  perfect  surrender  to  the  will  of 
God,  without  which  there  can  be  no  conquest. 
This  Knight  of  the  race  took  for  his  cup  the  Holy 
Grail.  He  drank  at  length  and  to  the  last  drop 
its  bitter  potion. 

-I,  too,  am  prone  to  seek  the  triumph  that  comes 
through  the  sword,  but  unsheathed.  The  cup 
of  suffering  and  self-sacrifice  is  impetuously  pushed 
away  while  I  seek  the  chahce  of  intoxicating  pleas- 
ure and  passion.  Shall  not  my  Lord  call  me  anew 
into  his   service  to  fight  with  the  sword  that  is 

sheathed;   to  drink  of  the  cup  of  his  sufferings? 

-^ 
(E>  prince  of  mp  peace!  J3ib  mc  tific  to  mp 
feet  a  true  bnisfjt  of  tfjp  Ijolp  crogg! 


NOVEMBER     SEVEN 


3Fot)n  18:  15-17.  Snb  ^imon  ^cter  fol- 
lotoeb  'Stsua,  anb  go  tib  anotjjer  bistiple. 
iSoto  ttat  bisciplc  toasi  bnotun  unto  tfje  J)<Bt) 
pric£(t,  anti  entereb  in  toitJ)  S^csuS  into  tte  court 
of  tf)e  Ijigt)  priefit;  but  $eter  toasi  gtanbing  at 
tije  boor  taitt)out.  ^o  ti)t  otf)cr  btgtiple,  bot)0 
toasf  fenoton  unto  t^e  ftigft  priest,  boent  out  anb 
gpafee  unto  fjer  tfjat  kept  tfjc  boor,  anb  farougtjt 
in  ^etcr.  ^bc  maib  tfjcreforc  tfjat  feept  tt)c  boor 
gaitb  unto  ^eter,  ^rt  tf)ou  also  one  of  tf)i£J  man'is 
bigcipleg?  J^e  jSaitf),  2f  am  not. 
-^► 

ADVANCE,  Peter,  and  give  the  counter- 
sign!" The  poor,  trembling  soul, 
shivering  at  the  door  of  the  great  ordeal, 
gave  the  necessary  word  of  denial  and 
passed  into  the  fellowship  of  those  who  loved  the 
darkness  rather  than  the  light.  Brave  Peter, 
to  be  undone  at  the  word  of  a  maid!  The  trouble 
with  Peter  was  that  he  did  not  go  far  enough. 
He  tried  to  get  near  to  Jesus  without  getting  too 
near.  Suddenly  it  was  all  over  with  Peter,  -All, 
but  for  the  fact  that  there  was  a  mighty  Deliverer, 
who  was  able  to  transform  the  shifting  sand  into 
adamantine  rock. 

The  world  will  challenge  me  to-day,  "Art  thou 
one  of  this  man's  disciples?"  It  may  be  in  office 
or  club,  in  shop  or  in  society,  that  I  will  hear  the 
word  that  may  be  my  undoing.  By  the  grace  of 
God,  I  will  be  true  to-day! 

-«^ 
0  tl)ou  forgibing  ^abiour!   jForbib  tijat  bp 
base  benial  21  sfjoulb  bepart  from  tijcc,  for  3  am 
tbp  bisciple  tnbeeb! 


NOVEMBER     EIGHT 


3Jol)n  18:  18.  iOtofco  tfjc  serbants  anb  tfjc 
officers  toerc  fitanbing  tfjere.  ftabing  mabc  a  fire 
of  coals;  for  it  toas  colti;  anlJ  tfjep  toere  toarm= 
ing  tfjemselbcfi;  anb  ^eter  also  toafi  baitJ)  tftcm, 
stanbing  anb  toarming  fjimsclf. 

]HRISTIANS  are  always  cold  when  they 
warm  themselves  at  the  world's  fire. 
When  one  has  the  chill  of  fear  upon 
his  heart,  when  there  is  the  biting 
cold  of  unbehef  within  his  soul,  and  when  his 
conscience  has  been  stripped  of  all  its  comfortable 
garments  and  left  naked,  he  cannot  warm  himself 
at  any  earthly  fire  of  coals.  The  longer  Peter 
stayed  at  the  charcoal  fire,  the  more  manifest 
became  his  terror.  His  noble  impulses  fled,  his 
love  for  the  Master  turned  limp  and  lifeless. 

^^ 
The  Christian  who  to-day  follows  Jesus  afar 
off,  will  come  to  the  world's  fires  to  get  warm. 
The  modern  dance  that  ministers  so  abundantly 
to  passion,  the  early  morning  hours  of  varied  sorts 
of  dissipation  that  rob  the  souls  of  men  of  the 
fervor  of  their  faith  and  zeal,  witness  a  crowd  of 
cringing  Christians  warming  themselves  at  the 
world's  fires  and  getting  colder  all  the  while. 

It  may  be  that  my  heart  is  in  such  a  peril  to- 
day. For  the  fervor  of  my  faith  that  would  keep 
me  spiritually  warm,  I  may  be  tempted  to  sub- 
stitute some  worldly  flame.     It  is  of  no  use. 

0  iHlastcr!  jReep  me  so  close  to  tijcc  tfjis  bap 
tljat  3  map  seek  no  eartijlp  fire  for  a  single 
begree  of  peace  or  comfort! 


NOVEMBER    NINE 


3Iof)n  18:  19,  20.  ®l)C  Ijigfj  priest  tberc= 
fore  agfeeb  3tiu&  of  Ijis;  bistiplcsf,  anb  of  tjis 
teacljing.  3ti\xi  anstoercb  fjim,  3  talJC  s(po= 
btn  opcnlp  to  tfjc  tuodb;  3  ebec  taugtt  in 
gpnagogucs,  anb  in  ttjc  temple,  toftere  all  tfjc 
3Feb)si  come  togett)ec;  anb  in  sieccet  epake  1& 
nott)ing. 


^^HE  meek  and  mild  Captive  is  standing, 
bound,  before  the  haughty  and  hardened 
captor.  The  forsaken  Gahlean  Peasant 
pleads  a  hopeless  case  before  the  prej- 
udiced Jewish  high  priest.  When,  lo,  in  the 
twinkling  of  an  eye,  the  scenes  upon  the  stage 
are  shifted  by  a  heavenly  hand  and  the  accused 
becomes  the  accuser. 

The  Master  still  speaks  openly  to  the  whole 
world.  His  doctrines  are  clear,  his  ethics  are 
final,  his  precepts  are  persuasive,  his  personality 
is  over-towering,  his  death  is  vicarious,  his  resur- 
rection is  triumphant,  his  coming  again  is  assured. 
In  the  face  of  these  evidences  of  the  truth  of  his 
gospel,  what  remains  for  unbelief  to  say  or  do? 
Only  this,  to  smite  Jesus  in  the  face!  There  is 
no  new  argument  against  Christ.  I  would  come 
openly  this  day,  with  openness  of  heart  and  mind 
to  him  who  speaks  openly  to  all  the  world.  He 
will  not  send  me  secretly  away. 


0  tljou,  tDf)o,  Kinless,  bibfit  6ear  tljc  biota  of 
gfjame  upon  tbp  £(acreb  face!  (@ibe  me  a  bouble 
portion  of  tt)p  s^pirit! 


NOVEMBER    TEN 


3Fof)n  18:  26.  0ne  of  tfjc  sctfaantg  of  tfjc 
ftiglj  priest,  being  a  binsman  of  fjim  taljofic  ear 
^eter  cut  off,  saitf),  IDib  not  3  Sec  tf)cc  in  ti)t 
gariien  toitf)  !)im? 

N  the  garden  with  him,"  spells  fellowship, 
love,  trust.  It  marked  the  circle  of  his 
intimates,  including  those  unto  whom  he 
made  the  most  abundant  revelation  of  his 
character  and  glory.  It  meant  the  final  word 
of  comfort  and  peace,  the  parting  message  of  con- 
fidence and  cheer.  Priceless  as  it  all  was,  Peter 
bartered  it,  and  for  less  than  nothing.  It  does 
not  seem  to  be  the  same  Peter,  but  it  was  exactly 
the  same.  It  was  the  same  Peter,  with  the  crum- 
bhng  sand  concealing  the  imperishable  rock. 

"In  the  garden  with  him,"  quickens  memories 
of  holy  covenants,  of  sacred  confidences,  of  endear- 
ing relationships.  It  brings  to  mind  the  first 
communion  season,  when  I  approached  the  sacra- 
mental table  with  an  unspoiled  faith.  It  confronts 
me  with  my  solemn  promises  made  to  God  in  an 
hour  of  trial,  that  if  he  would  only  spare  my 
darling,  I  would  henceforth  live  for  him.  O  my 
sQiil,  can  it  be  that  one,  who,  like  myself,  has 
w^alked  with  him  into  the  deepest  gloom  of  Geth- 
semane,  will  soon  deny  his  blessed  name  and 
my  discipleship?  May  the  love  of  Christ  con- 
strain and  keep  me  in  the  hour  of  trial! 

0  tfjou  tnitf)  b3f)om  3  Ijabc  fjab  fellofcasfjip  in 
tf)c  (garben  of  grief!  ^abc  me  in  tJ)is  present 
tour  of  neeb! 


NOVEMBER  ELEVEN 


3Io!jn  18:  29.  dilate  tfjercforc  tocnt  out  unto 
ti)em,  ant)  Haiti),  Wimt  accusation  being  pt 
against  tfjis  man? 

-^ 
'E  are  indebted  to  Pilate.  While  he 
failed  in  the  final  test,  his  conduct  of 
the  trial  of  Jesus  has  put  on  record  an 
overwhelming  weight  of  evidence  by 
which  history  has  acquitted  the  Master  of  the 
suspicion  of  a  fault.  What  accusation  do  men 
to-day  bring  against  "this  man"?  Many  of  them 
would  answer  with  indignation,  "None  whatever!" 
Yet  their  rejection  of  his  divine  person,  his 
sovereign  salvation,  his  practical  program,  places 
them  in  the  class  of  those  who  are  accusing  Christ. 
Others  are  willing  to  specify  his  limited  horizons; 
his  self-centered  kingdom,  his  impossible  and  un- 
desirable ethics,  his  hero-worshiping  disciples.  To 
any  such,  wisdom  replies  in  the  words  of  her 
ancient  spokesman,  "Take  him  yourselves,  and 
judge  him  according  to  your  law."  What  tiien? 
Too  well  they  know  how  impossible  are  the  con- 
clusions to  which  their  accusations  lead. 

It  may  be  my  lot  to  walk  to-day  with  those  who 
are  finding  fault  with  Jesus.  Let  me  have. the 
wisdom  of  Pilate,  but  with  the  motives  of  a 
disciple;  then  my  Master  will  have  no  cause  for 
shame. 

-^^ 
0  ^abiour!   tlTberc  is  no  accusation  against 
tftee  tJjat  toill  stanb  tfje  test  of  trutlj! 


NOVEMBER    TWELVE 


f ofjn  18:  36.  fesus  angtDcrcb,  Mv  feins- 
bom  is  not  of  ttis  toorlb:  if  mv  bingliom  tocre 
of  tt)is  toorlb,  tfjen  tooulb  mp  gcrbants  figljt, 
tfjat  3)  sboulb  not  fac  belibcreti  to  tfje  fctos:  but 
noto  is  mp  feingbom  not  from  i)tnct. 

^HE  King  is  competent  to  speak.  No  one 
better  than  he  knows  the  sphere  and  the 
genius  of  his  kingdom.  When  the  King 
solemnly  declares  that  his  kingdom  is 
not  of  this  world,  what  subject  will  be  bold  enough 
to  contradict  his  Sovereign?  It  was  the  opportune 
time  for  the  King  to  make  his  pronunciamiento. 
If  Jesus  had  permitted  the  opportunity  of  that 
hour  to  pass  by  unheeded,  he  would  have  con- 
demned his  Church  to  failure  at  its  very  beginning. 
It  is  one  thing,  however,  to  recognize  the  fact 
that  Jesus  proclaimed  the  other-worldliness  of 
his  kingdom,  and  another  thing  to  accept  it  as 
a  fact.  Roman  Catholicism  puts  a  premium  upon 
a  church  of  worldly  dominion.  The  supreme 
Pontiff  sits  in  pathetic  umbrage  in  the  Vatican, 
a  self-imprisoned  dignitary  because  a  measure 
of  his  temporal  power  has  been  shorn  away. 

"Although  I  must  labor  and  toil  in  the  midst  of 
the  kingdoms  of  this  world,  I  am  a  child  of  the 
heavenly  King.  May  my  manner  of  citizen- 
ship plainly  testify  my  allegiance  to  the  "King 
of  kings,  and  Lord  of  lords!" 

-^ 

<B  tf)OU  to!)o  bibst  toin  tijinc  eternal  feingbom 
fap  tte  sacrifice  of  tftpself !  <&ibe  mc  tijc  fcUoto= 
stip  of  tJ)p  Spirit  tbis  bap! 


NOVEMBER    THIRTEEN 


3Iot)n  18:  37.  dilate  tberefocc  iaib  unto 
i)im,  Sirt  tljou  a  fains  tben?  ^tsm  anstoercb, 
^i)ou  gapesft  tbat  Hi  am  a  faing.  Wo  ti)t£t  enb 
I)abe  3  been  bocn,  anb  to  tifii  enb  am  Hi  tome 
into  tfje  tojorlb,  tftat  3  jsfjoulb  bear  toitness  unto 
tfje  trutf).  Cberp  one  ttat  is!  of  tJje  trutf) 
tearet!)  mp  boice. 


=^HE  divine  right  of  kings  is  unchallenged 
here.  It  should  be  restated  thus:  The 
divine  right  of  the  King  of  kings,  even 
Jesus  Christ  our  Lord.  "Art  thou  a  king 
then?"  Ask  ancient  Israel!  The  law  is  ablaze 
with  foregleams  of  royal  splendor;  and  prophecy 
is  lustrous  with  august  anticipations  of  One  who 
will  come,  a  greater  David  upon  David's  throne. 
Ask  proud  Rome!  Constantine  with  his  vision  of 
the  cross  in  which  sign  he  was  to  triumph  and 
Juhan  the  Apostate  with  his  "GaHlean,  Thou  hast 
conquered!"  give  their  answer.  Ask  kings  and 
emperors,  presidents  and  governors!  In  the  words 
of  Fichte,  "The  more  wise,  the  more  humble,  the 
more  mighty  they  are,  the  more  reverently  they 
will  bow  before  Jesus  and  acknowledge  his  sover- 
eignty." 

4lfr> 

Ask  me  and  my  ransomed  soul  will  sing: 
"The  King  of  love  my  Shepherd  is. 
Whose  goodness  faileth  never." 

0  tf)ou  liing  eternal,  immortal,  inbisifalel 
Jllafae  me  tbp  true  anb  lobing  £iub)ect  nob)  anb 
altoapsl 


NOVEMBER   FOURTEEN 


3fof)n  18:  38.  dilate  fiaitl)  unto  f)im,  CSljat 
ig  trutl)?  9nb  tatjen  t)t  ftaii  s^ait"  tftisf.  t)£  toent 
out  again  unto  tlje  2Fctos,  anti  saiti)  unto  tfjem, 
3  finiJ  no  crime  in  ftim. 

DILATE'S  first  mistake  was  to  ask  "what" 
instead  of  "who."  His  final  and  his  fatal 
mistake  was  not  to  recognize  the  truth 
when  it  stood  incarnate  before  him,  in 
Jesus  Christ.  Truth  is  one,  as  God  is  one.  Its 
variety  perfects  its  unity.  Its  complexity  issues 
in  its  simplicity.  The  highest  form  of  truth  is  that 
which  is  embodied  in  personality.  Natural  laws 
reveal  but  they  do  not  exhaust  the  truth.  The 
truth  only  once  clothed  itself  completely  with  a 
human  life.  That  life  was  both  human  and  divine, 
even  the  life  of  our  Lord  and  Saviour. 

Pilate's  soliloquy  is  still  echoing  its  troubled 
way  through  human  breasts.  The  specialist  in 
some  particular  science  finds  truth  and  thinks  that 
he  has  found  it  all,  and  therefore  announces  the 
explosion  of  the  dogma  of  immortality.  The 
devotee  of  some  new  religious  cult  finds  a  measure 
of-truth  in  the  midst  of  many  vagaries.  He  is 
so  sure  that  he  has  cornered  the  market  that  he 
puts  up  the  price.  What  more  of  truth  is  there 
than  that  which  is  enthroned  in  Jesus?  All  else, 
however  needful  and  worthy,  is  but  a  shadow. 

©  tijou  tufjo  art  tfje  trutf)!  ^fjota  mc  tijc  tuap 
unto  tftpseU  tijat  3  map  finb  in  tl)ec  ti)t  IMntSi 
of  life! 


NOVEMBER    FIFTEEN 


3IoJ)n  18:  39.  Put  pe  babe  a  custom,  ttjat 
3  sfjoullr  release  unto  pou  one  at  tfje  passobcc: 
\aill  pe  therefore  tf)at  31  release  unto  pou  tfjc 
Hing  of  ttje  letns? 

OD  gave  Pilate  one  last  chance.  The 
custom  of  releasing  some  noteworthy 
prisoner  upon  special  occasions  still  ob- 
tains. In  the  days  of  old  it  was  a  con- 
cession to  the  Jewish  populace  on  the  part  of  the 
Roman  governor.  All  of  Pilate's  resources  were 
gone,  when  suddenly  this  door  of  escape  opened; 
only  to  be  closed  again  by  his  own  hand,  for  alas 
it  led  out  into  the  midst  of  an  infuriated  throng. 
"Not  this  man,  but  Barabbas!"  God  gave 
Israel  one  last  chance.  What  a  tragic  blight  upon 
her  Messianic  hopes  that  she  should  send  her  King 
to  the  cross  and  release  in  his  stead,  Barabbas,  a 
robber!  God  gives  every  man  his  last  chance. 
The  pity  of  it  all  is  that  men  presume  upon  the 
patience  of  God  and  despise  the  riches  of  his  for- 
bearance, and  turn  aside  from  every  offer  of  mercy 
saying,  "Some  other  time  God  will  give  me  my 
last  chance." 

God  gives  me,  to-d^y,  another  chance.  He 
mercifully  forgives  the  mistakes  of  yesterday 
and  allots  me  another  day  of  opportunity.  May 
it  be  marred  by  no  such  choice  as  that  which 
was  made  by  those  of  old! 

0  3lcm&,  3  tooulb  cfjoose  tbce  to=bap  abotic 
eberpone  anb  cberptijing,  for  ti)ou  tjast  djosen 
mcl 


NOVEMBER    SIXTEEN 


'3oi)n  19:  1-3.  tEtett  |)ilatc  therefore  took 
3Iesug,  anil  stourgcb  Ijim.  9nii  ti)t  solbicti 
plattcti  a  crotDH  of  tijorns,  anli  put  it  on  tjifi 
ijeab,  anb  arrapeb  i}im  in  a  purple  garment; 
anil  tbep  came  unto  ijim,  anb  &aiti,  ^ail,  iling 
of  tf)c  ^etus!  anil  ttep jStrucU  fjim  toitJ)  tfjeic 
ijanlis;. 


^HERE  was  no  pity  in  their  breasts!  How 
could  it  have  been  expected?  The  bru- 
talizing character  of  such  labors  as  theirs 
has  never  been  outgrown.  God  be  thanked 
that  there  are  signs  of  the  dawn  of  a  better  day. 
It  is  a  sad  page  of  the  Gospel  story,  but  one  that 
shines  with  a  vicarious  light,  which  tells  of  the 
cruel  scourging  and  mocking  of  Jesus.  The  pierc- 
ing agony  of  his  sacred  brow  under  the  crown  of 
thorns  pressed  down  by  rods,  from  either  side, 
the  mocking  travesty  of  the  royal  robe,  the  blas- 
phemous jeers  of  the  coarse  and  brutal  lips,  and 
the  blow  of  their  naked  hands  upon  the  body  of 
Jesus,  constitute  the  most  dreadful  panorama  of 
outraged  justice  and  wounded  love  ever  portrayed 
before  the  eyes  of  men.. 

<^ 
It  was  all  for  me.     Not  a  moan,  not  a  blow, 
not  an  ache  or  a  pain  but  holds  me  in  its  sacrificial 
grasp.     His  "sacred  head"  was  wounded  for  even 
me! 

0  tfjou  fcoljo  toast  mabc  perfect  tbrougf)  guf= 
ferings!  Jfill  up  tfje  measure  of  tbinc  affliction 
in  me  to=l)ap,  tljat  tOp  passion  map  not  taUe 
been  in  bain  for  me! 


NOVEMBER    SEVENTEEN 


HTofjn  19:  5.    sanb  dilate  fiaitl)  unto  tfjcm, 
^et)olli,  tt)t  man! 

==^  CCE  homo!"  The  world  has  not 
^  wearied  in  its  beholding.  For  one 
who  looks  upon  the  Infant  in  the  arms 
^^ — ^  of  the  Madonna,  or  the  glorified 
Christ  of  the  Transfiguration  Mount,  there  are 
a  hundred  who  behold  the  "man  of  sorrows,  and 
acquainted  with  grief."  What  was  there  to  be- 
hold in  the  Man?  Garments  of  mock  power, 
blood-stained  face  and  manacled  hands.  Men 
would  long  ago  have  tired  of  looking  if  that  were 
all.  There  are  other  and  brighter  things  at  which 
to  look.  There  is  the  glory  of  life,  its  beauty  and 
its  art.  There  are  heroes  who  have  won  their 
day.  There  are  mighty  men  who  have  been 
crowned  with  fame.  Wearied,  the  world  turns 
away  from  all  of  these  and  fixes  its  restless  eyes 
upon  the  Man  of  sorrows. 

It  may  be  that  I  have  resolutely  turned  my  face 
away  from  the  suffering  Saviour,  have  immersed 
myself  so  deeply  in  my  business  or  in  my  social 
life  that  Jesus  is  crowded  out.  Let  me  not  deceive 
myself.  At  some  turning  of  the  way,  it  may  be 
in  the  midst  of  this  very  day,  I  will  see'  One 
wounded  for  my  transgressions  and  bruised  for 
my  iniquities,  chastised  for  my  peace  and  healing 

me  with  his  stripes. 

««► 
€>  tljou  tofjo  bibst  suffer  sbamc  for  mp  siafee! 
iWap  31  fice  bcfjinb  tbc  bcil  of  tbp  JSuffcring  tfje 
fuUncfiS  of  tijp  Qlorp! 


NOVEMBER   EIGHTEEN 


STotn  19:  6.  dilate  gaitlj  unto  tbem,  ^abe 
ijim  poursicHjcs,  anti  crucifp  ijim:  for  3  tinb 
no  crime  in  t)im. 

^^ 

TRANGE  judgment  I  Logic  has  taken 
wings  and  justice  had  fled  in  swift  retreat. 
The  sentence  is  not  concessive,  "Crucify 
him  although  I  find  no  fault!"  but  caus- 
ative, "Crucify  him  because  I  find  no  fault." 
The  subtle,  deadly  evil  of  Pilate's  reasoning  was 
this:  "Crucify  him  yourselves:  I  will  not  actively 
enter  into  it:  I  will  not  deliberately  be  a  party 
to  it:  I  will  only  permissively  decree  it  and  will 
put  at  your  disposal  the  weapons  of  the  state  to 
accomplish  it."  In  the  fight  of  history  Pilate's 
logic  is  only  sophistry  of  the  finest  web.  It  de- 
ceived no  one,  not  even  Pilate  himself.  He  was 
responsible  because  his  will  was  either  the  barrier 
beyond  which  they  could  not  have  gone,  or,  as  it 
was,  the  gate  through  which  they  passed. 

Evasion  of  duty  is  easy  and  common.  There 
are  those  to-day  who  would  scorn  to  heap  shame 
upon  the  head  of  Jesus,  but  who  give  to  others 
the  unchallenged  right  to  crucify  him  afresh. 
They  would  not  for  the  world  put  Jesus  upon  the 
pillory  of  ribald  unbelief,  but  they  commit  to 
others,  unopposed,  the  task  and  privilege  of  mock- 
ing and  scourging  the  Saviour  of  the  world. 

0  ^abiour  of  manbinb!  iWap  no  inheritance 
from  |3ilatc  of  olb  entail  its  faurben  of  guilt 
upon  me!  Jforbib  tijnt  3  fifjoulb  be  of  tf)oae 
tDt)o  taooulli  crucifp  tijee  afresi)! 


NOVEMBER    NINETEEN 

fofjn  19:  12.  JBut  tfje  STetosf  crieb  out, 
gaping.  M  ttjou  telea£(e  tf)i£i  man,  ttou  act  not 
Caegar's  fricnii. 

liESAR  or  Christ?  that  is  the  never- 
ending  problem  of  the  man  of  the  world. 
Poor  Pilate  could  not  resist  the  horns  of 
this  dilemma.  To  choose  Caesar  was 
to  crucify  an  innocent  man!  To  choose  Christ 
was  the  undoing  of  his  own  political  career. 
Pilate  made  his  choice.  The  same  dilemma 
confronts  men  to-day.  In  pagan  lands  it  is 
Krishna  or  Christ,  the  prophet  of  the  sword 
or  the  Prince  of  peace,  the  sage  of  the  East 
or  the  Saviour  of  men.  In  the  lands  of  Chris- 
tendom it  is  Christ  on  the  one  side;  on  the  other, 
pohtical  prestige,  social  position,  wealth,  pleasure 
and  at  the  chmax,  self,  the  greatest  tyrant  of  them 
all. 

"Thou  art  no  friend  of  the  passing  world  if 
thou  dost  make  Jesus  King!"  is  the  challenge  of 
self-will  and  pride  to  many  a  man  who  faces  in 
his  day  and  generation  the  problem  that  was 
Pilate's  undoing.  Choose  I  must.  By  the  full- 
ness of  the  life  that  now  is  and  the  glory  of  the  life 
to  come,  by  the  forgiveness  of  God  and  the 
peace  that  passeth  knowledge,  I  choose  Christ. 

0  tfjou  tubom  to  tboose  in  life!  3  lobe  tJjee 
i)ecau£fe  tt)ou  bast  first  lobeb  me!  3n  tije  ligijt 
of  tfje  great  tofjitc  tfjronc,  3  bo  fjcre  anb  note, 
fiolemnlp,  jopouslp,  lobinglp  anb  taitlj  all  mp 
Ijcart  crp,  "ifcsug  is  mine!" 


NOVEMBER    TWENTY 


3fol)n  10:  14,  15.  i^oto  it  teas  tfjc  5rcp= 
aration  of  t\)t  passobcr:  it  toas  about  tfje  sixtfj 
tour.  9nb  tc  saitfj  uttto  tfje  3^cbQs;,  JSefjolli, 
pour  Slmg!  ®f)ep  tfjercforc  crieb  out,  Sftoap 
toitt)  tint,  atnap  toitfj  tim,  crucifp  tint!  dilate 
gaitt  unto  ttem,  ^i^all  3  crucifp  pour  iling? 
^t^  ctief  pxititi  anstnereb,  Me  tabe  no  bing 
but  Caesar. 

EHOLDING  the  man,  they  were  beholding 

D  their  King.  It  was  the  personal  pronoun 
\  which  infuriated  them.  If  Pilate  had  said 
— '  "Behold,  the  king!"  they  would  have  re- 
joiced in  the  sarcasm.  When,  however,  he  said 
"Behold,  your  King!"  they  flew  into  a  rage. 
There  is  no  record  of  a  more  humiliating  confession 
than  that  to  which  they  resorted.  "We  have  no 
king  but  Caesar."  They  were  willing  to  abjure 
their  pride  of  race,  their  Messianic  hopes,  their 
hatred  of  Rome,  if  only  they  might  strike  a  telling 
blow  at  Jesus.  Truly  Jesus  was  and  is  their  king. 
Israel  after  the  flesh  has  had  no  other.  All  the 
movements  of  Zionism,  all  the  reformations  of 
Judaism,  all  the  scattered  individual  conversions 
of  the  Jews  are  only  heralds  going  before  the  Lord 
trying,  "0  Zion,  thy  King  cometh  unto  thee!" 

He  is  also  my  King  and  my  Redeemer.  May  I 
see  him  to-day,  high  and  lifted  up,  above  all 
thrones  and  dominions,  Jesus,  my  King  and  my 
God. 

•^• 
0  ttou  upon  totom  ttp  ctosen  people  ottce 
loobeb  toitt  s^corn!   3  bioulb  look  unto  ttee  tuitt 
lobiitg  tontage  anb  croton  ttee  Uorb  of  all! 


NOVEMBER    TWENTY-ONE 


STotjn  19:  17.  ®()cp  toofe  3t6ui  therefore: 
anti  \)t  talent  out,  bearing  tt)e  ctog££  for  i)tm££elf, 
unto  tj)e  place  calleb  ^tc  place  of  a  gbuU,  ta)i)ict) 
is;  calleb  in  l^ebretai  <@olgott)a. 

'HO  else  could  have  carried  it  for  him? 
Simon  the  Cyrenian  bore  a  sacred 
burden  but  he  could  not  relieve  the 
Lord  of  one  small  portion  of  his  load. 
"He  went  out,  bearing  the  cross  for  himself." 
There  was  one  final  reason  why  no  other  could 
bear  his  cross.  It  was  because  it  was  his  eternal 
cross,  his  by  the  birthright  of  his  divine  Sonship, 
his  by  the  incarnation  of  his  deity  in  humanity, 
his  by  the  self-sacrifice  of  God  for  lost  and  sinful 
men.  There  were  no  other  arms  strong  enough, 
no  other  shoulders  broad  enough  and  no 
other  heart  brave  enough  to  carry  the  cross 
upon  which  the  Son  of  God  was  about  to  bear 
the  sins  of  the  world. 

The  truth  is  not  complete,  however,  with  the 
statement  that  he  carried  the  cross  for  himself. 
He  carried  it  for  others,  for  the  world,  for  me. 
It  was  my  cross,  the  stain  and  shame  of  my  sins, 
the  suffering  of  my  sorrows,  the  redemption  of 
my  soul,  that  he  carried  with  him  to  Calvary. 
"With  what  anguish  and  loss 
Jesus  went  to  the  cross 
And  he  carried  my  sins  with  him  there." 

©  tf)orn=croh)ncti  Cfjrisft!  ^abc  me  note  anti 
eber  for  tt)t>  lott'a  gabe! 


NOVEMBER    TWENTY-TWO 

5ohn  19-  18.  trijcp  ctutifietJ  i)itn,  anb  toitf) 
l)im  ttoo  otijetg.  on  eitber  sfitc  one,  anb  3Iefius( 
in  tijc  mitiiU 

WHAT    temporal    and    eternal    destinies 
are  locked  up  in  that  simple  phrase! 
It  is  not  the  horror  and  the  guilt  of 
the  transaction  but  its  issue  that  moves 
us  to  tears,  both  of  sorrow  and  joy.    There  was 
no  other  way.     The  gates  of  heaven  could  never 
have  been  opened  to  Ismgle  sinful  soul,  unless  his 
side    had    been    riven,    a    symbol    also    of    the 
fountain  for  sin  and  uncleanness,  foretold  by  the 
prophet  Zechariah.     The  barriers  of  human  self- 
will  and  self-righteousness  would  never  have  been 
broken  down,  unless  his  own  heart  had  first  been 
broken  in  loving  and  free  surrender  to  the  will 
of  his  Father.     The  cross  was  the  eternal  way. 
Redemption  was  not  an  afterthought  but  God  s 
first  and  final  thought.     Christ  robbed  death  of 
its  power  by  entering  into  its  prison  house  and  de- 
stroy'ng  it  from  within  and  setting  free  those  who 
had  been  brought  into  its  hopeless  bondage. 

^  For  me  there  is  no  other  gospel  than  that  ot 
the  Crucified.  The  faith  that  brought  the  Chris- 
tian Church  into  being,  that  has  sustained  and 
enlarged  it  through  all  the  centuries  since,  is  the 
fS  that  will  satisfy  me.  It  does  satisfy  me  here 
and  now. 

e  biUinc  le^cticcmcr!   ?@p  tlje  toben  of  tljp  f)olp 
ctogs,  l)abc  metcp  upon  mp  soul! 


NOVEMBER    TWENTY-THREE 


Slotn  19:    22.     ^ilatc  angtocreii,  MJbat  3 
Ijabe  torittcn  31  fjabc  toritten. 
«^ 
^T       ]7 1  STORY   is   resonant  with   the  echo   of 
L__^      Pilate's    spoken    word.     The    pages    of 
j  the   past   have  never   had   erased   from 

--^  ^  them  what  Pilate  wrote.  Truth  chooses 
strange  spokesmen.  She  sends  her  sealed  verdicts 
into  court  by  messengers  of  her  own  selection. 
Caiaphas  prophesied  that  one  man  should  die  for 
the  sins  of  the  people;  Pilate  wrote,  "Jesus  of 
Nazareth,  the  King  of  the  Jews";  the  jeering 
Pharisees  said,  "He  saved  others;  himself  he 
cannot  save";  the  centurion  declared,  "Truly 
this  man  was  the  Son  of  God." 

What  have  I  written?  What  does  it  matter, 
if  my  writing  be  of  passing  events,  of  popular 
fiction,  conformed  to  the  standards  of  the  age? 
What  have  I  written  concerning  Jesus?  Have  I 
engraved  upon  the  tablets  of  my  heart  his  'pre- 
cepts and  his  commandments?  I  am  chosen  of 
Christ  to  be  his  "epistle  .  .  .  known  and  read  of 
all  men."  I  ought  so  to  live  that  the  kingship 
of  Jesus  over  human  life  will  be  clearly  mani- 
fested through  me.  Pilate  was  willing  to  con- 
firm his  caprice  and  to  let  it  stand.  May  a 
hoher  motive  possess  me  to-day  and  make  me 
glad  to  testify,  by  a  life  that  cannot  be  recalled, 
that  Jesus  is  Saviour  and  King. 

dD  iWaster!  ?^clp  me  to  fac  so  constant  in  mp 
iaitmss  for  ttjee  ti)at  men  stjall  reab  ti)t  cecocti 
of  ti)p  lobe  in  mp  liailp  life! 


NOVEMBER    TWENTY-FOUR 


f  o!)n  19:  23.     iBtoto  tftc  coat  bjaai  tuittjout 
gcam,  inobcn  from  tljc  top  tljrougtout. 

"r=^HE  garments  of  men  are  garments  of  guilt, 
but    Jesus    wore    the    seamless    robe    of 
righteousness.     It  was  "woven  from  the 
-.       top  throughout."     Its  warp  and  its  woof 
were  wrought  out  of  his  daily  Ufe;    its  pattern 
was  designed  by  the  will  of  God.     Although  evil 
men  cast  lots  for  its  possession,  it  did  not,  could 
not,  belong  to  them.     It  was  the  legacy  of  the 
atoning  Christ  to  his  believing  disciples  in  all  the 
ages.     It  belongs  to  countless  milhons  who  have 
found  "hfe  through  a  look  at  the  crucified  One. 
It  covers  the  nakedness  of  soul  and  conceals  the 
hideous  deformities  of  spirit  to  which  the  children 
of  the  race  are  prone  by  the  entailment  of  their 
human    heredity.     It    shows,    by    contrast,    the 
rotten  rags  of  our  self-righteousnesss,  in  which  we 
seek  to  clothe  ourselves:  and  presents  to  us  God  s 
perfect  garment  for  our  ransomed  souls. 

^^ 
I  cannot  buy  or  beg  the  seamless  dress  for  it 
is  God's  free  gift  to  every  forgiven  child.  It  is  the 
•"garment  in  which  I  may  do  my  daily  work  and  in 
which  I  must  offer  my  daily  devotion  to  God. 
It  is  the  court  dress  of  the  kingdom  of  heaven  and 
without  it  I  would  seek  to  enter  the  King  s  pres- 
ence in  vain.     Best  and  most  marvelous  ot  all. 


ence 

it  is  mine! 


4^ 


0  tljou  Ctrifit  of  tf)c  gcamlcgg  bregs!   Cobct 
me  to-liaP  tDitl)  t|)c  robe  of  tljp  riBtteousncgfi! 


NOVEMBER    TWENTY-FIVE 


fobtt  19:  26,  27.  Miten  ^tm&  tfjcrefore 
gatD  tiis  motter,  axxit  ti)e  tuisfciple  £(tanbjng  bp 
botjom  ift  lobet),  ije  gatti)  unto  ti£i  motfjcc, 
(Moman,  bcljolb,  tf)p  fion!  ®f)cn  fiaitf)  tc  to  tljc 
bistiplc,  IScfjolb,  tijp  motter!  ^nt>  from  tftat 
tour  tt)e  btsiciple  took  i)tt  unto  ijig  oton  i)ome. 

"^^HE  Fourth  Gospel  records  three  of  the 
seven  words  of  Jesus  upon  the  cross. 
His  recognition  of  his  mother  and  the 
beloved  disciple,  his  cry  of  thirst  and  his 


shout  of  victory  are  given  place  in  the  Johannine 
Gospel  record.  "Father,  forgive  them;  for  they 
know  not  what  they  do,"  "To-day  shalt  thou 
be  with  me  in  Paradise,"  "My  God,  my  God, 
why  hast  thou  forsaken  me?"  and  "Father, 
into  thy  hands  I  commend  my  spirit,"  complete 
the  seven  sayings. 

To-day,  I  am  thinking  of  the  tenderness  of  his 
love  for  his  own.  His  mother  was  mother  still, 
and  will  be  unto  the  ends  of  the  ages,  the  mother 
of  his  human  nature.  To  her  who  brought  him 
into  the  world  he  offers  the  divinest  love  and 
solicitude.  To  the  beloved  disciple  he  leaves  a 
sacred  trust.  There  is  a  hallowed  truth  for  me 
to-day  hidden  in  the  heart  of  Calvary.  My 
Master  has  sanctioned  and  sweetened  the  ties 
of  kinship  and  affection  which  bind  me  to  those 
whom  I  call  dear.  May  I  ever  love  them  in  the 
light  of  my  Saviour's  love! 

0  Cfjrist!  iHap  tijp  ftolp,  fjuman  lobe  for 
tijinc  oton  fill  mp  iitavt  to=bap  for  all  tto£(c 
b)i)om  t|]ou  \)aiit  gtbcn  mel 


NOVEMBER    TWENTY-SIX 


f  oljtt  19:  28.  Sifter  tfjis  ^em&,  bnotoing; 
tfjat  all  tftingg  are  nolo  finisjjeb,  tljat  tfje  scrip- 
ture  migtt  be  accomplisljcb,  saitlj,  31  tfjirsit. 

r^HE  Water  of  life  is  athirst!  Has  truth 
ever  again  concealed  herself  in  so  hope- 
less a  paradox  as  this?  The  same  Saviour 
who  offered  the  cup  of  heavenly  water 


to  the  lips  of  the  Samaritan  woman  now  cries  out 
in  an  anguish  infinitely  more  keen  than  hers, 
though  of  a  diviner  sort,  "I  thirst."  The  very 
One  who  on  the  last  great  day  of  the  feast  had 
stood  in  the  midst  of  the  multitude,  crying  out, 
"If  any  man  thirst,  let  him  come  unto  me  and 
drink,"  has  come  to  his  last  great  day  on  earth, 
when  he  himself  is  being  consumed  with  thirst. 
The  paradox  is  resolved  only  as  each  half  truth 
fits  into  the  other.  He  cried,  "I  thirst."  But 
for  that,  his  offer  of  the  water  of  life  would  have 
been  vain  and  delusive.  He  must  needs  bear  every 
human  ache  and  anguish,  every  mortal  pain  and 
infirmity,  with  an  unclouded  mind  and  an  active, 
although  surrendered,  will. 

.-  It  brought  comfort  to  me  when  I  sat  by  my 
Master's  side  at  Jacob's  well  to  hear  him  say, 
"Give  me  to  drink."  It  gives  me  a  higher  joy 
to  know  that  in  the  hour  in  which  he  was  being 
offered  up,  he  did  not  forsake  humanity,  by  refus- 
ing to  bear  the  pangs  of  human  thirst. 

tCfjou  fjasft  suffereb  the  untolb  agonies  of  sfac' 
rtficial  tbirst,  0  llorb,  tijat  ti)ou  migtjtest  gibe 
me  tf)e  toater  of  life! 


NOVEMBER    TWENTY-SEVEN 


3roJ)n  19:  30.  Wbtn  ^ti\x6  tftcrcfore  tab 
ccceibeli  tf)e  binegac,  tje  6^it>,  3t  in  ftnistjetr: 
anb  te  botaoeb  tisi  ijeati,  anb  gabe  up  ifis  apitiU 


f  1 1  -/HE  Son  of  God  had  the  perspective  of 
eternity.  Otherwise  he  could  not  and 
would  not  have  said  this.  Men  have  said 
-^  it  in  triumphant  tones  when  some  secular 
enterprise  has  resulted  in  complete  success.  The 
more  numerous  and  the  more  discouraging  pre- 
vious failures  have  been,  the  more  abundant  has 
been  the  joy  of  the  triumph.  Other  courageous 
souls  have  cried,  "It  is  finished,"  when  only 
in  hope  could  they  see  any  crowning  of  their 
labors.  Still  others,  to  whom  God  has  given  the 
privilege  of  prophecy,  have  foretold  the  certain 
triumph  of  truth,  when  the  darkness  of  error  was 
like  midnight  upon  all  the  people.  Jesus,  unlike 
all  of  these,  cried,  "It  is  finished." 

-^■ 
Was  it  truly  finished?  Has  it  ever  been  fin- 
ished? Was  he  unmindful  of  the  days  of  humble 
beginnings  for  his  Church,  the  dark  hours  of 
struggle,  the  conflict  of  truth  with  evil,  in  what 
seems  to  be  an  age-long  contest?  In  the  face  of 
all  the  universal  hosts  of  darkness,  breaking  but 
not  broken  by  the  anguish  of  the  cross,  enduring 
without  sin  all  of  the  consequences  of  the  sin  of 
the  world,  he  heralded  unto  the  end  of  the  ages 
the  good  tidings  of  a  completed  redemption. 

<^  ti)ou  b)f)o  btbsft  bear  mp  aim  in  tijtne  oton 
bobp  upon  tf)f  tree!  <©ibc  me  to-bap  tlje  }op  of  tijp 
tinisf)tt}  galbatton! 


NOVEMBER    TWENTY-EIGHT 


STobn  19:  34.     I^otobeit  one  of  tlje  golbicrs 
faoitt)  a  gpeat  pierceti  1ji&  sibe,  anli  dtcaigtjttaDap 
tijetc  came  out  falooD  anii  taater. 
-^ 
^^N  that  day  there  shall  be  a  fountain  opened 
.  .  .  for  sin  and  for   uncleanness."     A    two- 
fold  scripture  was  thus    fulfilled.     One,    the 
prophecy  of   the   scripture    that,   "a   bone  of 
him  shall  not  be  broken,"  and  the  other  the  word 
of  Zechariah,  "They  shall  look  on  him  whom  they 
pierced."     Forth  from  that  pierced  wound  was  to 
flow  the 

"Fountain  filled  with  blood 

Drawn  from  Emmanuel's  Veins; 
And  sinners,  plunged  beneath  that  flood, 
Lose  all  their  guilty  stains." 

I  cannot  do  better  than  to  make  my  own  to-day 
the  words  of  Hooker,  "Let  it  be  counted  folly  or 
fury  or  frenzy  or  whatever,  it  is  our  wisdom  and 
our  comfort;  we  care  for  no  knowledge  in  the  world 
but  this,  that  man  hath  sinned  and  God  hath 
suffered:  that  God  hath  made  himself  the  sin  of 
men  and  that  men  are  made  the  righteousness  of 
God."  The  heart  of  the  eternal  God,  throbbing 
in  the  holy  passion  of  everlasting  love,  is  sending 
his  own  life-giving  blood  into  the  anaemic  veins  of 
every  sin-cursed  soul,  who  will  cling  to  the  divine 
goodness  revealed  in  Christ.  Praise  God  for  the 
ever-flowing  fountain  of  everlasting  life! 

^^ 
0    Cljrist    of    (!3ob!    tfjou   bibst   gibe   tfjp 

precious  life  for  me!    f?lat>  31  Piclb  mv  van- 

Eom:b  life  a  baili;  sacrifice  to  tfjcc! 


NOVEMBER    TWENTY-NINE 


ETofjn  19:  38.  39.  Sinti  after  ttese  tfjings 
3Fo)SepJ)  of  ^[rimatljaa  .  .  .  came  tbereforc.  anti 
toob  abaap  ^ii  bobp.  3nti  tijete  came  also 
Mitobtmxxi. 


=7HESE  two  names  occupy  a  conspicuous 
place  in  the  Gospel  record  and  worthily 
so.  It  is  not  because  their  devotion 
was  hke  that  of  Peter,  passionate  in  the 
hour  of  prosperity  and  chilled  to  death  in  the  hour 
of  disaster  but  because  they  were  ready  and  able, 
on  account  of  their  power  and  wealth,  to  put  the 
seal  of  love  upon  the  body  of  his  flesh  which  was 
soon  to  become  transformed  into  the  body  of  his 
glory.  It  is  useless  to  imagine  the  bewilderment 
of  Nicodemus  or  the  heavy-heartedness  of  Joseph. 
We  are  more  concerned  with  their  genuine  and 
lavish  love,  which  offered  itself  in  an  hour  when 
there  were  no  others  to  do  the  needful  things.  It 
is  fitting  to  remember  that  no  single  day  of  Jesus' 
earthly  life,  not  even  that  dark  day  which  followed 
Calvary,  was  without  the  loving  ministry  of 
those  who  believed  in  him. 

Only  two  disciples  were  permitted  to  prepare 
his  body  for  the  burial,  for  he  died  but  once.  To 
me,  with  countless  millions,  it  is  given  to  bring 
to  him,  risen  from  the  dead,  the  spices  of  daily 
devotion  to  his  will. 

0  Itorb,  mp  ^atjiour!  rcceibc  tfje  fjomage 
of  mp  fjeart  in  tufjicf)  tfjine  image  ii  fjibben  fap 
(aiti),  tfjig  bap! 


NOVEMBER    THIRTY 


STotjn  19:  41.  ilota  in  tf)e  place  taftcrc  ite 
teas  crucifieb  tljerc  tnas  a  gatben;  anb  in  ti)c 
garben  a  nebo  tomb  tuijecein  tuag  nebec  man 
pet  laib. 


=*^HE  newness  of  the  tomb  did  not  relieve  it 
of  its  gloom.  The  luxurious  trappings 
of  the  funeral  cortege  and  the  newly 
made  mound  of  earth,  heaped  high  with 
flowers,  do  not  despoil  the  burial  of  a  loved  one 
of  its  desolation  and  loss.  There  was,  however, 
a  divine  fitness  in  the  fact  that  the  body  of  Jesus 
should  be  in  a  tomb  "wherein  was  never  man  yet 
laid."  It  was  new;  it  was  doubtless  valuable; 
it  was  therefore  a  worthy  sepulcher  for  the  body  of 
his  humiliation.  Other  plans,  it  is  likely,  had 
been  made  for  this  rock-hewn  sepulcher.  It  had 
been  humanly  destined  for  a  last  earthly  rest- 
ing place  of  the  body  of  another.  God  willed 
otherwise. 

Jesus  hallows  every  tomb  in  which  the  body  of 
a  believing  child  is  laid  to  rest.  He  puts  upon  it 
the  seal  of  his  own  submission  unto  death  in  order 
that  from  within,  he  may  break  its  barriers  down. 
Do  I  walk  this  day  with  breaking  heart  to  some 
newly  made  tomb,  or  am  I  making  an  oft-repeated 
pilgrimage  to  some  white  city  on  the  hill?  Faint 
not,  my  troubled  heart, 
"Jesus  has  vanquished  death  and  all  its  powers." 

0  tfjou  tofjo  bibst  tagte  bcatfj  for  efaerp  mani 
(Sitae  mc  an  abunbant  measure  of  tfjat  life  tijou 
ijasft  promi£(eb  anb  protaibeb  ttjrougij  tt)P  open 
tomb  I 


DECEMBER    C  NE 


3fo|)n  20:  I.  jTtota  on  tfjc  first  bap  of  ti)e 
fcacefa  tometf)  jHarp  iinagbalene  earlp,  tafjilc  it 
taad  pet  barb,  unto  tije  tomb,  anb  &ttX\)  tt)e  stone 
taben  atoap  from  ti)e  tomb. 

TTT  was  not  too  early  and  not  too  dark  for  the 
loving  Magdalene!  She  would  endure  any 
weariness  and  brave  any  fears  in  order  to 
minister  to  her  Master,  even  in  his  death. 
The  night  was  too  long  for  rest:  the  day  was  too 
slow  for  love.  Mary  Magdalene  kept  the  first 
"morning  watch"  on  the  first  Lord's  Day  morning. 
What  countless  hosts  have  walked  in  her  footsteps! 

The  reward  of  her  quest  was  an  open  tomb. 
She  did  not  dream  how  wide  and  gloriously  the 
gates  of  death  were  opened.  She  thought  that  the 
tomb  was  open  only  to  the  keeper's  touch,  to 
the  signet  of  Ccesar.  She  did  not  know  that  the 
stronghold  had  been  burst  open  from  within  by 
the  power  of  him  who  is  Life  and  Immortality. 
In  but  a  "little  while"  of  patient  faith,  the  dark- 
ness of  her  soul  was  to  be  dissipated  forever  as  the 
morning  "sun  of  righteousness"  emerged  over  the 
hills  of  night  and  ushered  in  the  day  of  the  Lord. 

For  me,  whether  man  or  woman,  young  or  old, 
the  Magdalene's  pilgrimage  will  bring  to  me 
her  blessing.  I  will  go  therefore,  boldly,  gladly, 
penitently,  to  the  open  tomb  of  my  risen  Lord 
and  keep  the  "morning  watch"  with  him. 

<!E>  tbou  toljo  bibfit  suffer  tljp  flcsfj  to  rest  in 
tt)e  grabe  biitbout  corruption!  (Sibe  me  tije  ijope 
of  ti)ine  open  tomb! 


DECEMBER    TWO 


HTofjn  20:  2,  3.  ^l)c  tunnctf)  tfjerefore, 
anb  comctf)  to  Linton  |3eter,  anb  to  tl)e  otfjcc 
bigciple  l)ot)om  Jesus  loUeb,  anb  saitfj  unto 
tf)cm.  ®|)cp  ftabc  taken  atoap  ttje  ILorb  out  of 
tf)c  tomb. .  . .  ^eter  tfjerefore  toent  fortf),  anb  tfje 
oti)ec  btsciple,  anb  tfjet>  tuent  totoarb  tije  tomb. 

"YV  /f  ARY  obeyed  the  first  and  the  funda- 
mental Christian  impulse.  It  is  that  of 
telling  others.  While  it  is  true  that 
she  did  not  then  have  much  to  tell 
—  though  there  would  have  been  more  had  she 
only  known  —  she  could  not  resist  the  impulse 
which  bids  us  save  our  faith  and  solve  our  prob- 
lems by  sharing  what  we  have  with  others.  If 
Mary  had  not  told  and  if  the  disciples  had  not 
hastened  to  the  tomb,  the  good  tidings  would 
have  been  told  in  some  other  way,  but  the  favored 
ones  would  have  lost  the  blessing  that  was  to 
follow. 


M 


It  is  eminently  true  in  the  propagation  of  the 
good  tidings  to-day.  The  man  who  has  seen  the 
risen  Lord,  and  who  does  not  tell  others  of  his 
experience  is  not  thwarting  the  will  of  God  but  is 
only  robbing  himself  of  the  joy  of  its  fellowship. 
All  Mary  Magdalene  then  had  to  share  was  the 
knowledge  of  an  empty  tomb.  I  have  the  assur- 
ance of  a  risen  Saviour. 

-$^ 

0  tbou  tofjo  bibBt  s«be  tf)P  life  for  me! 
I^clp  me  to  be  tijp  faitJjful  toitness  tobap  anb 
altoaps! 


DECEMBER    THREE 


Hloftn  20:  4.  5.  ainb  tftep  ran  botf)  togetfjcr: 
anb  ti)e  oti)er  bidciple  outran  $eter,  anb  came 
iix&i  to  ti)e  tomb;  anb  stooping  anb  loobtns  in, 
l^e  £(eett)  ti)e  linen  cIoti)£i  Iping;  pet  entereb  i)e 
not  in. 

YOUTH  outruns  age.  If  it  be  true  that 
the  "other  disciple"  was  John  himself, 
and  if  the  tradition  that  John  was  much 
younger  than  Peter  be  true,  a  sidehght 
is  cast  upon  this  text.  The  younger  man  ran 
faster  than  his  older  comrade  and  reached  the 
tomb  first.  The  difference  between  the  two  lies 
in  what  took  place  at  the  tomb.  There  is  an  un- 
mistakable suggestion  in  the  narrative,  that  the 
linen  cloths  were  lying  in  the  form  in  which  they 
had  enfolded  the  Master's  body.  His  glorified 
body  could  pass  as  readily  through  the  habili- 
ments of  the  grave  as  through  the  "door  that  was 
shut."  The  disciple  who  outran  Peter  was  re- 
warded by  a  vision  of  the  incontrovertible  evi- 
dence that  his  Lord  was  no  longer  intombed. 
"Yet  entered  he  not  in."  This  marks  the  limita- 
tion of  his  zeal,  his  courage  and  his  faith. 
-^ 
To-day,  I  may  be  Hke  the  "other  disciple," 
distancing  my  companions  and  friends  in  the  haste 
of  my  journey.  Let  me  be  careful  lest,  in  the  hour 
of  trial,  another  shall  surpass  me  in  the  full  dis- 
covery of  joy. 

-*^ 

€>  tljou  tof)om  tfje  grabc  toulb  not  fjolb!  3ftc= 
beat  tbpself  to  me  to=bap  in  tlje  fuUnesos  of  tijp 
sabing  pobier! 


DECEMBER    FOUR 


^Toftn  20:  6.7.  ^imon  ^eter  tficrefore  also 
tomctf),  foUoluing  fjim.  anb  cntereb  into  tfje  tomb; 
anb  Ijc  ljef)olbct|)  tfjc  linen  tlotjjg  Iping.  anb 
tf)c  napkin,  ttjat  tuas  upon  fjiss  fjeab,  not  Iping 
tuiti)  tbe  linen  cloti)£e,  but  rolleb  up  in  a  place 
bp  itfielf. 

-^ 

'YfT  is  easy  to  be  contemptuous  and  to  say, 
"Fickle  Peter!"  We  are  really  looking  upon 
the  likeness  of  a  wonderful  man  in  the  mirror 
of  this  brief  Gospel  record.  The  giant  was 
emerging  out  of  the  stature  of  the  pygmy.  "  Peter 
.  .  .  entered  into  the  tomb."  A  triple  reward  was 
his.  First,  he  saw  what  the  other  disciple  saw,  the 
linen  cloths  lying  robbed  of  their  spoil.  Second, 
he  entered  in  and  saw  "the  napkin,  that  was 
upon  his  head,  not  lying  with  the  linen  cloths,  but 
rolled  up  in  a  place  by  itself,"  a  double  token  that 
whatever  had  taken  place  had  been  the  result  of 
some  plan  of  divine  import  and  power.  Third,  he 
encouraged  the  other  disciple  to  enter  in  and  to 
possess  the  full  experience  for  himself. 

At  best  these  two  disciples  were  much  in  the 
dark.  "As  yet  they  knew  not  the  scripture,  that 
he  must  rise  again  from  the  dead."  Their  kin- 
dhng  faith,  however,  has  quickened  mine.  I  would 
walk  with  them  to  the  Saviour's  tomb  to-day  and 
fmd  it  filled  with  the  glory  of  immortality. 

0  tf)ou  tafjom  tljp  bisciplcs  gougbt,  but  founb 
not,  in  ttc  Ijolp  tomb!  3  map  finb  tljce  to=bap 
cntbroneb  in  tbp  ccjSutcection  poUiet  toitftin  mp 
inmost  bcatt! 


DECEMBER    FIVE 


Hfoljn  20:  U.  12.  JSut  iUlarp  toas  stanbtng 
tnitbout  at  tbe  tomb  tQceptng:  no,  ad  £(i)e  toept, 
ii}t  £(toopeb  anb  loobeb  into  tlje  tomb;  anb  sift 
befjolbetb  tboo  angels  in  totitc  sitting,  one  at  tftc 
Ijeab,  anb  one  at  ti)e  feet,  \a\)tte  ttje  bobp  of 
BTesus  tab  lain. 


M 


"YV  /f  ARY'S  tears  did  not  hide  her  blessings 
for  they  were  tears  of  love.  She  did 
not  weep  so  much  that  she  did  not 
desire  to  see.  What  was  the  earthly 
use  of  her  looking?  There  was  no  "earthly  use" 
of  her  looking,  but  there  was  a  heavenly  reason. 
"She  beholdeth  two  angels  in  white  sitting,  one 
at  the  head,  and  one  at  the  feet,  where  the  body 
of  Jesus  had  lain." 

Criticism  makes  bold  with  this  simple  statement. 
Faith  never  wrought  half  so  stupendous  a  miracle 
as  that  which  unbelief  presents.  The  latter 
makes  "Mary's  hallucination"  the  foundation 
stone  of  the  whole  superstructure  of  Christianity. 
Let  those  believe  it  whose  intellects  are  so  im- 
poverished that  they  will  eat  the  husks  of  ab- 
surdity while  refusing  the  grain  of  truth.  For  the 
rest  of  us,  Mary's  vision  has  been  oft  repeated. 
God's  messengers  are  still  sent: 

"Angels  of  Jesus,  angels  of  light, 
Singing  to  welcome  the  pilgrims  of 
the  night!" 

0  tt)ou  faoijo  bibst  senb  tbp  messengers  to 
f)cr  of  olb!  <6ibe  me  bibine  guibantc  to-bap 
anb  rebeal  to  me  tijp  risen  ^elf! 


DECEMBER    SIX 


HTofjH  20:  13.  anil  tf)cp  sap  unto  fjet, 
JlSaoman,  boijp  toeepeist  tfjou?  B>i)c  fiaitfj  unto 
tfjem.  because  tfjep  fjabc  taben  atoap  mp  ILort, 
anb  31  bnotu  not  toftere  tftep  fjabc  laib  Jjim. 

ARY'S  weeping  was  genuine  and  un- 
restrained. Even  tiie  angels  in  white 
did  not  overawe  her.  She  was  not  seek- 
ing angels,  she  was  seeking  her  Lord. 
There  are  many  disciples  to-day  like  Magdalene 
of  old.  They  look  askance  upon  the  modern  forms 
of  faith  to  which  they  are  unaccustomed  and  they 
cry,  "Our  Lord  is  taken  away  and  we  know  not 
where  they  have  laid  him!"  Foolish,  faint- 
hearted folk!  They  cannot  take  your  Lord  away! 
Can  unbehef  do  to-day  what  it  failed  to  do  nine- 
teen hundred  years  ago?  Men  may  lose  him  for 
themselves,  alas,  but  they  cannot  take  him  away 
from  his  ransomed  children.  "Neither  death, 
nor  life,  .  .  .  nor  any  other  creature  shall  be  able 
to  separate  us  from  .  .  .  Christ  Jesus  our  Lord." 

It  may  be  that  my  faith  falters  upon  the  brink 
of  some  great  ordeal.  I  dare  not  enter  the  hour 
of  trial  alone  and  I  seem  to  fail  to  find  my  Saviour 
whom  I  desire  to  go  with  me.  Look  up,  soul  of 
mine!  He  is  not  to  be  found  among  the  dead 
but  among  the  living!  He  is  even  now  inter- 
ceding at  the  right  hand  of  God!  Trust  him  now 
and  ever,  and  thou  shalt  never  be  confounded! 

0  tjjou  toljo  bibst  fautsft  tlje  have  of  beatfj 
asuntier!  ^et  me  free  to=lJap  from  boubt  anb 
fear  anb  from  cumbering  gotroto  anb  besetting 
ainl 


DECEMBER    SEVEN 


Sfoljn  20:  15.  STcsus  gaitfj  unto  ijer, 
iHoman,  totjp  tuccpcst  tfjou?  totjom  scebefit 
tfjou?  ^f)c,  supposing  {)im  to  be  tfje  garbener, 
gaitf)  unto  Jjint.  ^ir.  it  tljou  Ijast  borne  tint 
tence,  tell  me  botjece  tt]ou  i)a£it  laiti  bim,  anti 
3  totU  talte  l)tm  atoap. 

OVE  goes  to  any  length.     The  poor,  un- 
aided woman  was  wilhng  to  take  the  body 
^^.  of  her  Lord  away!     The  angels  had  minis- 
^^^^^   tered   to    her   in   vain.     She   was   bearing 


as  well  as  breaking  under  the  load  of  her  sorrow, 
alone.  The  fountains  of  the  deep  were  unstopped 
within  her  and  her  tears  ran  in  torrents.  She 
became  so  blinded  with  grief  that  she  could  not 
even  discern  her  Lord.  She  supposed  him  to  be 
the  gardener,  and  therefore  did  not  even  look  at 
him  when  she  addressed  him.  She  was  too  far 
bowed  down  in  sorrow  to  lift  her  eyes  to  the  face 
of  her  near-by  Saviour. 

'  With  what  prejudgments  of  my  distress  do  I 
come  to  seek  my  Lord?  I  am  sure  that  he  has 
hidden  his  face,  else  my  sorrow  had  not  come. 
His  arm  must  be  shortened  or  he  would  have  kept 
me  from  the  trouble  of  this  passing  hour.  There- 
fore my  tears  become  my  meat  day  and  night. 
Lift  up  thine  eyes,  O  my  soul!  Jesus  is  by  thy 
side!  His  heart  has  never  ceased  to  yearn  for  thee. 
He  will  never  leave  thee  nor  forsake  thee! 

CD  Cfjrist!   ^abc  me  from  tlje  pain  ani>  peril 
of  tljat  falintmegg  tofjitf)  ^ititi  tf)p  fate  from  me! 


DECEMBER    EIGHT 


SFofjn  20:  16.  3Jc£(ug  sfaitf)  unto  bcr,  iHarp. 
^fje  tutnctf)  fjcrseU,  anb  fiaitfj  unto  ijim  in 
l^ebretn,  3^abbont;  toijici)  isf  to  gap,  ^caci)er. 

'HE  dialogue  is  short,  but  sacred  in  its 
sweetness.  The  fondest  word  of  endear- 
ment that  love  can  use  is  the  name  of 
the    beloved    one.      Never    did    Mary's 


name  seem  half  so  intimate  as  it  did  when  it  fell 
from  the  glorified  lips  of  the  risen  Lord.  We 
are  not  given  names  merely  to  be  known  by, 
but  that  by  their  use  we  may  be  loved.  What  an 
infinite  wealth  of  tenderness  Jesus  must  have  put 
in  that  simple  word,  "Mary!"  Salutation,  affec- 
tion, confirmation,  exultation!  He  called  her  by 
her  own  familiar  name;  he  lavished  his  undying 
love  upon  her;  he  confirmed  her  faith  in  him; 
he  triumphed  over  every  foe  that  separated  her 
from  him.  What  a  holy  passion  Mary  must  have 
hberated  in  that  wondering  word,  "Rabboni" 
—  Teacher!  Recognition,  devotion,  contrition 
and  adoration.  She  knew  him  in  the  flash  of  an 
instant  as  her  loving  Lord;  she  offered  to  him 
the  treasures  of  her  fife;  she  would  have  fallen  at 
his  feet  in  awed  remembrance  of  that  from  which 
he  had  saved  her;  she  worshiped  him. 

My  living  Master  would  call  me  to-day  by  that 
name  which  loving  parents  gave  me  and  which  he 
has  written  upon  the  palm  of  his  hand. 

€>  ^abiour!  21  tooulb  faolblp  tabe  tljp  satreii 
name  upon  mp  lips  because  tfjou  tallest  ebcn  mc 
hT^  name! 


DECEMBER    NINE 


3fol)n  20:  17.  3ti\xi  gaitft  to  fter,  tKoucf)  mc 
not;  for  3  am  not  pet  aficenbcb  unto  tljc  jFatfjcr: 
but  go  unto  mp  farctfjrcn,  anb  sap  to  tftcm,  21 
afi£cnb  unto  mp  Jfatber  anb  pour  Jfatljer,  anb 
mp  <©ob  anb  pour  <gob. 

RISEN,  but  not  ascended!  For  a  fleeting 
moment  the  door  of  revelation  opens 
upon  a  great  mystery.  The  grave  had 
been  despoiled  and  the  body  of  Christ 
had  become  glorified.  One  thing  remained  to 
be  done.  "I  ascend  unto  my  Father  and  your 
Father,  and  my  God  and  your  God."  How  vain 
our  speculations  concerning  the  mystery  of  this 
revelation!  Whatever  it  meant  to  men,  it  was 
of  divinest  significance  to  God.  Doubtless  it 
behooved  Christ  to  present  unto  the  Father  his 
glorified  human  nature,  the  guarantee  of  his 
finished  work.  Further,  the  disciples  needed  to 
be  admonished  that  it  was  no  longer  the  earthly 
Jesus  with  whom  they  were  to  have  fellowship,, 
but  the  One  whom  God  had  highly  exalted,  and 
had  given  "a  name  which  is  above  every  name." 

To-day  we  worship  an  ascended  Lord.  We 
may,  unforbidden,  touch  him  by  faith  and  fall 
prostrate  at  his  feet  in  adoring  awe.  His  com- 
pleted sacrifice  for  sin  has  wrought  its  perfect 
work.  He  has  united  to  himself  our  ransomed 
human  nature,  forever  and  forever.  Because 
he  lives,  we  shall  live  also. 

€>  tt)ou,  totio  art  bone  of  our  bone  anb  flestf)  of 
our  flcgl)!  ^bou  art  also  our  astenbcb  ILorbl 
Mt  taaorsbip  tbee,  toorlb  ttiitbout  enb! 


DECEMBER    TEN 


3fof)n  20:  19.  Mten  tfjereforc  it  taas  ebcn- 
ing,  on  tfjat  bap,  t|)c  first  bap  of  tljc  taecfe.  anb 
bofjcn  tijc  boors  tnerc  sljut  tofjere  tJjc  bisfciplcs 
toere,  for  fear  of  tfje  3Ieb)S,  Jcsusf  came  anb 
£ttoob  ill  tije  mibst,  anb  saitij  unto  item,  $eace 
be  unto  pou. 

'HE  disciples  were  held  in  a  threefold 
bondage  —  the  dark  of  night,  the  doors 
that  were  shut,  the  fear  of  the  Jews. 
The    risen    Lord   turned   the   night   into 


day,  penetrated  the  closed  doors  and  put  human 

fear  to  flight. 

-^ 

"Peace  be  unto  you."  A  common  salutation 
of  the  Orient  transhterated  into  the  language 
of  heaven.  It  was  a  spoken  word,  requiring  vocal 
cords  and  tongue  and  lips.  Here  is  the  mystery 
that  always  baffles  doubt  and  gives  faith  its  food. 
He  who  passed  through  closed  doors  could  utter 
a  human  voice.  Nor  is  this  all  the  evidence  that 
confirms  his  bodily  resurrection.  Other  hnks 
in  the  golden  chain  are  soon  to  appear.  This  one 
was  the  audible  witness  of  his  presence  in  the 
midst.     The  corruptible  had  put  on  incorruption! 

He  is  still  our  Peace.  He  enters  the  upper 
room  of  my  soul  through  the  closed  door  of  human 
sight  and  reveals  himself  to  the  eyes  of  faith.  He 
gives  me  perfect  peace  because  he  is  my  Peace. 

0  tf)OU  tofjo  bibgt  farcafe  boton  all  barriers  of 
flegf)  anb  time  in  orber  to  rebeal  tbp  risen  self! 
^peab  peace  also  unto  me  to=bap! 


DECEMBER    ELEVEN 


EToljn  20:  20.  Slnl)  toljcn  fje  J)ai>  iSaili  tfjifi, 
!)c  £(f)otoeb  unto  tJjem  Ijis  tjaniig  anb  f)i£(  gibe. 
^t)e  bisictplesi  ttjercfoce  toece  slab,  Isijen  tt)cp 
KatD  tj)c  ILorb. 

T7       T7E  gave  them  visible  and  tangible  as  well 
as  audible  proofs  of  his  triumph  over  the 
[       I     grave.     He  showed  them  the  same  nail- 
pierced   hands  and  the  identical  spear- 
riven  side,  but  glorified.     The  Master  added  sight 
to  sound,  and  the  touch  of  recognition  to  the  tone 
of  assurance.     "The  disciples  therefore  were  glad." 
Could  they  have  been  otherwise?     The  cumulative 
evidence  of  his  voice,  his  hands  and  his  side,  closed 
the  loophole  of  uncertainty.     Their  shadows  had 
been  turned  into  the  morning;  their  weeping  into 
singing;    the    Master's   promised    "joy"    opened 
before  them  like   a  full-blown   rose   out   of   the 
beautiful  bud  of  peace. 

"Hath  he  marks  to  lead  me  to  him, 
If  he  be  my  Guide? 
In  his  feet  and  hands  are  wound  prints, 
And  his  side." 
His  "rich  wounds,  yet  visible  above"  are  the 
tokens    of    his    undying   love.     He    carries    upon 
his  glorified  body  the  healed  scars  of  the  hurt  of 
my  sin.     With  what  holy  awe  and  heartfelt  con- 
trition ought  I  to  be  glad  to-day,  when  I  see  the 
hands    and    the    side    of    my    suffering,    glorified 
Redeemer. 

€>  ^abiour!  JWabe  glab  mp  bcart  tc=bap 
tuitlj  a  sacrcb  bision  of  Hjp  glorificb  seU! 


DECEMBER    TWELVE 


lUI 


f  oi)n  20:  22.  ^nti  tuljen  fjc  bab  saib  tftiK, 
l)c  farcatfteb  on  tfjem,  anb  fiaitfj  unto  tl)em,  3Re= 
tcibe  pc  tl)c  ?&olp  Spirit. 

E  breathed  on  them,"  but  it  was  the 
■  ■  breath  of  a  transfigured  Christ.  The 
[  I  air  of  that  upper  room  was  redolent 
with  a  heavenly  fragrance.  The  same 
hps,  which  in  the  days  of  his  flesh  had  spoken  the 
"wonderful  words  of  Ufe,"  now  give  to  them  the 
very  secret  of  Ufe  itself.  It  was  for  this  that 
the  risen  Christ  reappeared  among  his  disciples. 
It  was  not  merely  to  afford  them  irrefutable  witness 
of  the  fact  of  his  resurrection,  but  to  clothe  them 
with  its  mighty  power,  by  the  indxN^elling  of  the 
Holy  Spirit,  that  the  Master  "stood  in  the  midst." 
The  historical  fact  of  Jesus'  resurrection  would 
have  been  an  inconclusive  witness,  if  the  divine 
Advocate  had  not  been  commissioned  to  accom- 
pany that  fact  and  to  plead  its  truth. 

The  glorified  Redeemer  is  still  breathing  upon 
his  people,  saying,  "Receive  ye  the  Holy  Spirit." 
It  is  nothing  that  we  can  beg  or  buy,  go  after  or 
get.  The  only  way  to  get  the  Holy  Spirit  is  to 
receive  him  as  the  inbreathed  gift  of  the  ascended 
Saviour.  May  I  rejoice  this  day  in  the  gift  of  the 
indweUing  God,  to  be  my  Comforter  and  Guide! 

Spirit  of  (gob,  begtenb  upon  mv  f)cart: 
HEean  it  ftom  eartfj;  tljroust  all  its  pulfics 

motjc. 
Jfor  3Fcsu£('  fiabcl 


DECEMBER    THIRTEEN 

loftn  20:  23.  3ai!)os(e  socber  ging  pe  for= 
gibe,  tf)ep  are  forgtben  unto  tljem;  biijoge  goeber 
fiing  pe  retain,  tijep  are  retaineb. 

^HE  Roman  Catholic  Church  (and  rit- 
ualism in  general)  sets  great  store  by 
the  priestly  interpretation  of  this  verse. 
Jesus,  according  to  such  views,  was  more 
interested  in  establishing  an  ecclesiastical  close 
corporation  on  earth  than  he  was  in  setting  up 
his  true  kingdom.  The  whole  miserable  system 
of  meritorious  penance  and  priestly  indulgence 
and  the  monstrous  private  confessional  have 
largely  arisen  out  of  this  distorted  view  of  his 
words.  Evangelical  Christianity  receives  the 
Saviour's  words  as  declarative.  He  has  author- 
ized his  Church  to  declare  the  forgiveness  of  sins 
upon  the  simple  condition  of  faith  and  repentance; 
and  to  announce  the  solemn  truth  that  sins  un- 
repented  are  sins  unforgiven.  Roman  and  Evan- 
gehcal  Christianity  are  both  agreed  in  this,  that 
the  doctrine  of  the  forgiveness  of  sins  through  a 
divine  Redeemer  is  central  in  the  faith. 

-§^ 
No  matter  how  far  advanced  I  may  be  in  my 
Christian  life,  there  is  no  going  beyond  the  simplest 
and  most  personal  article  of  the  Creed,  "I  believe 
...  in  the  forgiveness  of  sins."  It  was  for  this 
that  Jesus  suffered  and  died.     He  died  for  me. 

-$^ 
<©  t!)ou  jfeefeing  ^abiour!   3  pratKc  tftce  be= 
tavLit  tfjou  fjasit  tafeen  atnap  mp  fiinsf!    jForbib 
tijat  II  sfijoulb  continue  in  ti)c  iiwi  from  toijict) 
31  Ijabc  been  iicliberei)! 


DECEMBER    FOURTEEN 


3Iof)n  20:  24,25.  JButCfjomas;,  .  .  .  saib 
unto  tjjcm,  (Kxtept  3  sfjaU  see  in  \)is  ftanbs  tfjc 
print  of  t|)c  nails,  anb  put  mp  finger  into  tte 
print  of  ti)e  nails,  anb  put  mp  fjanb  into  i)is  sibe, 
3  tDill  not  beliebe. 


^HOMAS  was  a  type  as  well  as  an  individ- 
ual. There  have  been  thousands  like 
doubting  Thomas,  who  have  demanded 
to  see  before  they  believe.  Thomas, 
first  of  all,  missed  a  great  blessing  because  he  was 
not  present  at  that  first  prayer  meeting.  Many 
Christian  people  are  like  him  in  this  respect. 
They  have  their  excuse  and,  doubtless,  Thomas 
had  his,  though  the  Scripture  does  not  regard  it 
as  worth  repeating.  Thomas  missed  the  vision 
of  his  Lord  which  would  have  satisfied  him  and 
he  fettered  himself  with  heavy  doubts  which 
nearly  became  his  undoing. 

"^ 

There  is  no  question  that  Thomas  was  an  honest 

doubter.  He  demanded  no  more  than  the  Lord 
had  already  given  to  the  other  disciples.  There 
are  many  who  have  taken  refuge  under  Thomas' 
cloak  but  without  Thomas'  honesty  of  heart. 
They  continue  in  willful  indecision.  They  erect 
false  tests  for  faith.     They  will  to  doubt. 

Let  this  be  the  test  of  an  honest  doubter;  of 
my  soul,  if  I  be  such.  Do  I  long  with  a  heart- 
breaking desperation  to  have  Jesus  reveal  himself 
to  me?  Then  he  will  meet  me,  as  he  did  Thomas 
of  old,  more  than  half  way. 

"  ILorb,  3  belieUe;  Ijelp  tijou  mine  unbelief." 


DECEMBER    FIFTEEN 


3Iof)n  20:  27,  28.  ^ficn  fiaitJ)  te  to 
Cfjomas,  jReacf)  ijttfjer  tfjp  finger,  anlr  ssce  mp 
fjanbs;  anb  reati)  Jjitftcr  tfjp  ftanb,  anb  put  it  in- 
to mp  iitit:  anb  be  not  faitftlefis,  but  belieUing. 
tCfjomas  anstocreb  anb  fiaib  unto  fjim,  illp 
ILotb  anb  mp  <gob. 

-^' 

'HE  risen  Lord  took  doubting  Thomas  at 
his  word.  He  met  every  test  of  his 
troubled  soul  and  satisfied  it.  The  sim- 
ple fact   that   he   repeated  in   substance 


Thomas'  challenge  was  in  itself  conclusive  proof. 
It  was  the  cry  of  a  hberated  spirit  and  of  a  trans- 
formed soul  that  fell  from  Thomas'  ecstatic  lips, 
"My  Lord  and  my  God!"  The  glory  of  Thomas' 
confession  is  found  in  the  use  of  the  personal  pro- 
noun. "The  Lord  is  my  Shepherd,"  sang  the 
psalmist:  "My  Lord  and  my  God,"  cries  trusting 
Thomas. 

Two  truths  emerge  from  the  sacred  word  to-day. 
One,  the  blessed  fact  that  the  glorified  Lord  is 
willing  to  show  his  hands  and  his  side  to  even  a 
doubting  disciple,  who  comes  sincerely  seeking  the 
Saviour;  the  other  that  the  issue  of  surrendered 
doubt  is  always  personal  faith.  There  is  no 
higher  and  no  deeper  test  of  my  attitude  toward 
Christ  than  my  willingness  to  make  Thomas'  words 
my  own.  Other  things  may  still  be  dark:  lei  me 
but  see  him  who  is  my  Lord  and  my  God  and 
I  will  be  no  longer  "faithless,  but  believing." 

(JD  tijou  tofjo  bost  seek  anb  finb  tfjp  tocafaest 
cjjilb!  3  lobinglp  anb  contritclp  tuorsfjip  tfjee, 
to-bap,  mp  llorb  anb  mp  <£^ob! 


DECEMBER    SIXTEEN 


STofjn  20:  29.  TcsnS  gaitfj  unto  fjim,  |Sc= 
cau£(e  tt)ou  ijasft  £(een  me,  ttjou  i\ait  beltebeb: 
blcfiscb  arc  tljcp  tfjat  taUc  not  ficcn,  aniJ  pet 
tabe  beltebeb. 

^^&- 

DA  LESSINGS  belong  to  believers.  The  risen 
-^  Saviour  opened  a  wide  door  to  a  large 
room  when  he  uttered  the  words  of  this 
verse.  Thomas'  doubts  and  Thomas' 
faith  were  real  to  him  and  important  in  the  pro- 
gram of  the  kingdom.  Jesus  was  thinking  of  the 
milhons  who  are  yet  to  believe;  of  those  who 
have  depended  not  upon  the  sight  of  the  eyes  but 
upon  the  faith  of  the  soul.  Their  welfare  was  just 
as  precious  to  Christ  as  was  that  of  Thomas. 

There  is  peculiar  comfort  for  me  in  this  welcome 
truth.  The  exalted  Redeemer  bestows  blessed 
benefits  upon  me.  He  knows  the  barriers  of  sense 
and  time  and  therefore  values  the  more  the  trust- 
ful devotion  of  one  who  has  not  seen  but  who 
simply  and  sincerely  believes.  I  rejoice  that  the 
positive  doubter  became  the  passionate  behever. 
I  am  doubly  glad  because  Christ  was  willing  to 
place  the  devotion  I  offer  him  upon  the  same 
high  plane  with  that  upon  which  the  apostohc 
faith  was  first  expressed.  I  am  most  joyous  of 
all  because  I  belong  to  the  ransomed  host  which 
no  man  can  number,  gathered  from  every  land  and 
from  every  age,  whose  song  will  ever  be  "Worthy 
is  the  Lamb  that  hath  been  slain." 

-^^ 
iWabe  me  glati  tobap,  0  Cftrist,  taitf)  tfje 
blcsfstng  toljici)  belongs  to  beliebing  upon  tfjec! 


DECEMBER    SEVENTEEN 


3lo\)n  20:  30,  31.  Mmp  otfjer  signs  there- 
fore bit)  Jesus  in  ti)e  presence  of  tt)e  tiisciples, 
biilici)  are  not  tQritten  in  ti)is  boofa:  but  ti)ese 
are  toritten,  tfjat  pc  map  bcliebe  tf)at  STesus 
is  tfje  Ctjrist,  tlje  ^on  of  (Sob;  anb  tfjat  bc= 
licbing  pe  map  Ijabc  life  in  fjis  name. 

''^HE  Fourth  Gospel  was  written  for  one 
concrete  purpose.  Its  motive  was  to 
persuade  men  "that  Jesus  is  the  Christ, 
the  Son  of  God;  and  that  beheving 
[they]  may  have  hfe  in  his  name."  It  is  not  an 
annal  or  an  essay;  it  is  not  a  treatise  or  a  dis- 
sertation. It  is  more  of  a  spiritualized  memoir. 
The  heart  of  the  human  author  has  been  suffused 
with  the  glory  of  "the  only  begotten  from  the 
Father."  The  Johannine  Gospel  is  more  than  a 
biography,  however,  because  it  is  builded  about 
a  controlling  purpose.  The  sacred  author  desires 
men  to  believe  and  to  have  life.  He  exhibits  Jesus 
Christ,  the  Son  of  God,  in  the  glory  of  his  humilia- 
tion and  in  all  the  triumphs  of  his  atoning  death. 
Above  all  the  mortal  echoes  that  rise  from  the 
pages  of  the  Book,  as  Christ  moves  in  the  midst 
of  men,  is  the  entreating,  loving,  apostohc  word, 
"Believe  and  have  life!" 

-^ 
I  have  read  and  pondered  the  pages  of  this 
inspired  Book.     Praise  God,  the  more  I  read  and 
ponder,  the  more  deeply  I  believe!     I  have  Hfe 
to-day  in  his  name. 

'^ 
0  ^on  of  (^ob!   JBvtak  unto  me  to-bap  tf)e 
libing  breab  ttjat  beliebitig  on  ttee  3  map  libe! 


JJ>. 


DECEMBER    EIGHTEEN 


STofjn  21:  3.    ^imon  ^cter  gaitfj  unto  ttcm, 
3  B"  a  tififjing. 

'^ 

DETER  said  it  with  a  sob.  He  was  going 
back  again  to  the  gainful  occupation  from 
which  he  had  once  been  called  by  the 
Master.  Now,  his  Master  no  longer  walk- 
ing with  him,  he  must  walk  by  himself.  The 
smell  of  the  sea  filled  his  nostrils,  the  lure  of  the 
old  life  laid  siege  to  his  heart.  With  a  cry  that 
meant  disappointment  and  distress,  if  also  pass- 
ing pleasure,  he  turned  to  his  boat  and  his  nets 
and  he  took  others  with  him.  "That  night  they 
took  nothing."  It  may  have  been  because  their 
minds  were  upon  other  things  than  fishing.  In  any 
event,  morning  began  to  break  upon  empty  nets, 
and  discouraged  "toilers  of  the  sea."  They 
were  nearer  their  risen  Lord  just  then  than  they 
even  dreamed.  Their  barren  toil  was  of  his 
choosing,  that  he  might  recall  them  again  from  all 
gainful  craft  to  his  fellowship  in  service,  and  might 
make  them  those  who  should  "take  men  alive." 

Have  I  the  mind  or  mood  of  Peter  and  the 
other  six  upon  the  shore  of  Gahlee?  It  may  be 
that  I  am  tempted  to  turn  back  again  to  the  things 
from  which  I  have  been  weaned.  God  forbid! 
If  I  do  go  back,  it  will  only  be  to  fruitless  toil. 
Happy  my  soul  if,  when  the  morning  breaketh, 
Jesus  calls  me  again  to  his  fellowship  and  service. 

-^ 
€>  Jflastcr  of  tfjc  sea  of  f)uman  life!   JJlafae 
me  a  lis^tt  of  men! 


DECEMBER  NINETEEN 


3!o\}n  21:   4-6.    ISut  tnljen  bap  toasf  noto 
breaking,  SJefiUJSgtoob  on  tfjebcacf):  pcttbcbiB!=- 
tiplcK  bnctd  not  tbat  it  toass   Hfcsfug.     3fcgu£( 
tbercforc  gaitb  unto  tbcm,  Cbilbren,  babe  pc 
augbt  to  cat?     ^\)tp  anstoereb  bim,  ^o.     9nb 
be  Efaib  unto  tbem,  Cast  tbc  net  on  tbe  rigbt 
&U)t  of  tbe  boat,  anb  pe  £(baU  finb.     ^i)tv  cast 
tberefore,  anb  noto  tbcp  toerc  not  able  to  brato 
it  foe  tbe  multitube  of  fisbes. 
•^ 
ESUS  stood"  and  they  knew  him  not!     The 
stranger's    question     from     the     shore     was 
natural,   "Have   ye  aught   to   eat?"     Peter, 
J/    perhaps,      standing    up,     megaphoned     with 
his   hands   and  cried,   "No!"    Then   came   back 
a    word    of     command,     baffling    in    its     assu- 
rance and  yet  irresistible,  "Cast  the  net  on  the 
right  side  of  the  boat,  and  ye  shall  find."     They 
cast  and  they  found. 

Faith  has  its  surrenders  to  doubt  and  its  back- 
slidings  to  sin,  and  it  also  has  its  tears  of  repent- 
ance and  its  songs  of  rejoicing.  Our  Master  turns 
our  barrenness  into  blessing  by  a  single  word  of 
command.  How  much  apostolic  history  would 
never  have  been  written  for  them,  if  the  seven 
disciples  had  not  promptly  obeyed  the  imperative 
voice  of  the  unseen  Master.  The  passing  year 
is  all  but  spent  for  me.  Festive  days  are  about 
to  dawn.  Have  I  toiled  all  year  and  taken  noth- 
ing? Then  let  me  but  hear  and  heed  the  unseen, 
commanding  Lord,  and  I  shall  find. 

®  Cbrist!   Commanb  mc  bp  tbp  sobcreign 
grace,  anb  turn  mv  barrenness  into  blcssingl 


DECEMBER   TWENTY 


3lo\)n  21:  7.  ©Ijat  biscipic  ttercforc  totjom 
SIffiuss  lobeb  sattf)  unto  J)ttcr,  3t  is  tf)E  Hotb. 
^0  txjfjen  ^imon  ^cter  bcatb  tljat  it  toas  tfje 
llotb,  tje  girt  fjis  coat  about  fjim  (for  l)e  tnas 
nabeb),  anb  cast  fjimscU  into  tfjc  sea. 

ETER  could  brook  no  delay  and  so  he 
braved  the  sea.  His  zeal  was  worthy  and 
inspiring.  He  was  just  as  anxious  to  get 
out  of  the  boat  as  he  had  been  to  get  into 


D 


it.  He  was  as  willing  to  cease  fishing  as  he  had 
been  eager  to  begin.  His  risen  Master  made  all 
the  difference.  Without  him  Peter  would  have 
become  a  Galilean  fisherman  whose  name  would 
have  been  unknown  beyond  the  circle  of  the  little 
inland  sea.  With  Jesus  entering  into  his  hfe 
again  he  became  the  leader  of  a  new  movement, 
the  apostle,  with  his  brethren,  of  a  new  faith,  the 
herald  of  the  "glorious  gospel  of  the  blessed  God." 

-^ 
The  blessing  that  came  to  Peter  was  worth  a 
plunge  into  the  cold  morning  sea.  He  was  not 
thinking  of  any  chill  that  might  creep  over  his 
flesh;  he  was  burning  in  his  heart  with  the  eager- 
ness of  penitent  love.  I,  too,  would  willingly 
-plunge  into  any  untried  sea  if  only  I  might  the 
sooner  come  into  fellowship  with  my  Lord.  Even 
wings  are  not  swift  enough  to  bear  my  soul  to 
him  when  he  calls  me  to  himself. 

3  tooulb  tome  to  tfjcc  to=bap,  0  Cfjrist,  as 
fast  as  lobing  feet  can  being  me!  ^i)ou  toilt  not 
turn  me  abiap! 


DECEMBER   TWENTY-ONE 


3Fof)n  21:  9,  10.  ^o  totjcn  tfjcp  got  out 
upon  tfje  lanb,  tfjep  set  a  fire  of  coals  tfjerc, 
anb  figj)  laib  tt)crcon,  anb  farcab.  STcsus  gaitfj 
unto  tbem,  ^ring  of  ti)e  fisft)  \ai)iti)  pe  tatie 
nob)  taken. 

'^ 
0  earthly  hands  kindled  that  fire.  The 
fish  and  the  bread  were  of  a  divine 
procuring.  The  risen  Lord  was  the 
Master  of  that  morning  meal  and 
seven  hungry  fishermen  were  his  invited  guests. 
The  same  hand  that  multiplied  the  barley  loaves 
and  the  two  small  fishes  to  the  feeding  of  the 
multitudes  upon  the  hillside,  transformed  the 
loaves  and  the  fish  on  the  Galilean  seashore  into 
spiritual  food  for  the  hungry  disciples.  Jesus  also 
asked  of  them  a  share  of  what  they  themselves 
had  to  give.  Although  he  could  have  provided 
all  the  food,  he  sought  at  their  hands  what  they 
could  give.      It  was  his  divine  right, 

Je#us  still  breaks  heavenly  bread  to  his  chosen 
followers.  He  has  furnished  our  table  even  in  the 
presence  of  our  foes.  He  gathers  us  about  the 
fire  of  his  own  kindling,  and  presents  to  us 
the  good  things  of  his  own  providing.  Then, 
last  of  all,  he  asks  of  us  that  which  we  can  give. 
Time,  talent,  position  —  all  of  these  must  be  freely 
offered  to  him  from  whom  all  have  been  received. 
I  cannot  do  less  than  this.  I  will  do  it  gladly 
and  will  do  it  now. 

jnp  &oh  anb  ^abiour!  311  tijat  ii  mine  ii 
tbine!   Wist  it  anb  U£fe  me  in  ti)p  sierbice! 


DECEMBER    TWENTY-TWO 


f  oljn  21:  II.     ^imon  3^tttt  tfjerefore  tocnt 
up,  anb  tirctD  tfjc  net  to  lanD,  full  of  great 
figijcs,  a  fjuntireii  anlJ  fiftp  anl>  tftrcc:   anb  for 
all  tljerc  toere  so  manp,  tfje  net  toas  not  rent. 
-^- 
7 HIS  is  the  miracle  of  the  unbroken  net. 
Another  similar  event  recorded  in  another 
Gospel  narrative  is  considered  by  some 
only  as  a  variant  account  of  the  same 
incident.     There    are    real    differences,    however. 
The   other   draught   of  fishes  took   place   at  the 
beginning  of  their  earthly  fellowship  with  Jesus! 
this  one  at  the  beginning  of  their  heavenly  fellow- 
ship.    Between  the  two  he  the  busy  days  of  his 
earthly  ministry,  as  well  as  Gethsemane  and  Cal- 
vary. In  addition  to  all  of  this,  a  beautiful  symbolic 
truth  appears.     In  the  former  miracle,  "their  nets 
were  breaking";    in  the  latter  one,  ''for  all  there 
were  so  many,  the  net  was  not  rent." 

The  same  divine  power  alone  will  transform 
lives  to-day.  After  all,  the  Master  is  the  fisher- 
man, the  world  the  sea,  the  Church  his  net,  and 
I  am  but  a  single  strand.  Do  I  put  my  Lord  to 
the  indignity  of  fishing  with  a  broken  net  because 
I  am  not  in  my  place?  Men  may  escape  through 
the  broken  net  of  forms  and  ceremonies,  but  they 
cannot  resist  the  living  net  of  loving  men,  whom 
the  risen  Lord  has  touched. 

Makt  me  a  part  of  tfjine  unbrofeen  net,  0 
iflagtcr,  bp  means  of  tuljitl)  to  faring  men  to 
tt)eet 


DECEMBER   TWENTY-THREE 


Efofjn  21:  12.  S^cfius  gaitft  unto  tl)em. 
Come  anil  fareafe  pour  fast.  iSnt  none  of  ttjc 
bt£ictple£i  but£(t  inquire  of  i)int,  2Ht)o  art  ti)ou? 
bnotoing  tfjat  it  teas  tftc  Horb. 

"^ESUS  did  not  call  them  to  a  feast  in  order  to 
satiate  them  with  creature  comforts:  he  only 
asked  them  to  break  their  fast  in  order  that 
JJ  without  distress  they  might  begin  again  their 
toil  for  him.  He  would  not  send  them  forth  into 
the  world  of  turmoil  and  trouble,  weary  and  spent. 
He  gave  them  broken  bread  for  their  daily  need. 
"None  of  the  disciples  durst  inquire  of  him. 
Who  art  thou?"  No  name  had  been  spoken,  no 
challenge  of  the  Master,  no  response  of  the  dis- 
ciples, yet  they  knew.  Love  has  its  own  marks  of 
recognition.  They  knew  him  as  truly  as  they  knew 
one  another.  How  chaste  and  subdued  must  have 
been  the  conversation  at  that  morning  meal! 

•^- 
Jesus  still  calls  men  to  break  their  fast  upon 
the  living  bread  he  has  provided.  At  the  sacra- 
mental table,  at  the  hour  of  morning  worship 
in  the  house  of  God,  around  the  family  altar,  in 
the  prayer  closet,  wherever  the  soul  of  his  disciple 
hungers  for  his  righteousness  there  is  the  risen 
Lord  with  his  bounteous  supply.  I  dare  not  ask 
to-day,  "Who  is  it  that  satisfies  me  with  his 
mercy?"  It  is  none  other  than  the  loving,  living 
Lord. 

€>  TLoxts,  3  fjatJC  tasttcb  anb  Ija^c  founb  fjoto 
gootj  tftou  art!  Jfccb  me,  bap  bp  bap,  toitJj  lit>= 
ing  far  cab! 


DECEMBER   TWENTY-FOUR 


IToftn  21:  14.     Cftis  is  noto  ttc  tijirb  time 
tfjat  Tt&us  teas  manifcsteb  to  tljc  bisciplc£(, 
after  tfjat  Ije  liiasi  risen  from  tfje  beab. 
-^- 
'HE  resurrection  of  Jesus  is  not   founded 
upon   fancy   but   upon   fact.     The   cred- 
ibility of  the  witnesses,  the  consequences 
of  their  testimony,  the  absurdities  which 


follow  the  refusal  to  accept  the  scriptural  evidence, 
the  progress  of  Christianity  and  the  history  of 
the  world,  all  form  a  part  of  the  closely  woven 
fabric  of  truth.  No  other  single  fact  in  history 
is  so  abundantly  attested.  The  Master's  appear- 
ance to  Mary  and  the  women,  to  the  ten,  to  the 
Eleven,  to  the  two  upon  the  Emmaus  way,  to 
Cephas,  to  James,  to  the  seven  upon  the  seashore, 
to  five  hundred  brethren  at  once,  and  last  to 
Paul  as  "to  the  child  untimely  born,"  are  all 
links  in  an  unbroken  chain. 

-^- 
The    risen    Christ    has    also    appeared    to    me. 
The  historic  facts  of  his  lowly  birth  which  I  am 
about  to  celebrate,  his  life  ministry  among  men, 
his  atoning  cross,  his  glorious  victory  over  death, 
his  ascension  to  the  right  hand  of  the  Father,  his 
ever-living  intercession,  his  final  coming  again  in 
power,  are  transmuted  for  me  into  conscious  ex- 
perience by  faith  in  him.     Within  my  own  heart 
the  mirth  of  Christmas  Eve  deepens  into  joy. 
"Joy  to  the  world!  the  Lord  is  come: 
Let  earth  receive  her  King." 

iD  come  to  mi'  heart,  Uorb  3fesus. 
^Ijere  is  room  in  mv  fjcart  for  tfjcc! 


DECEMBER   TWENTY-FIVE 


3Fotn    21:    15.     STcsufi  saiti)    to    ^imon 
$etcr,  ^imon,  son  of  Slofjn,  lobest  tf)ou  me? 

ESUS  used  one  word  for  love  and  Peter  an- 
swered with  another.  The  Master  asked  of 
Peter  passionate,  devoted  love.  Peter  was 
J/  wiHing  to  give  the  love  of  a  friend.  The  third 
time  Jesus  asked  the  question,  he  condescended 
to  use  Peter's  word,  and  to  ask  for  the  love  Peter 
was  willing  and  able  to  give.  Peter  was  grieved 
because  he  remembered  his  threefold  denial. 
For  every  denial  Jesus  exacted  a  new  and  contrite 
confession.  Only  so  was  Peter  healed  of  the  hurt 
that  was  upon  his  soul. 

Christendom  is  rejoicing  to-day  in  its  Christ- 
mas gifts.  MiUions  who  do  not  name  His  name 
have  responded  to  the  spirit  of  his  natal  day. 
Human  love  may  have  lavished  upon  me  a  wealth 
of  costly  tokens,  or  it  may  have  fed  me  upon 
simple  fare.  "Lovest  thou  me  more  than  these?" 
my  Master  entreatingly  pleads.  "More  than 
what,  0  Lord?"  "More  than  the  things  which 
perish;  more  than  earthly  gifts  and  more,  even, 
than  dear  earthly  givers;  more  than  business  and 
pleasure;  more  than  honors  and  fame?"  "Thou 
knowest  all  things;  thou  knowest  that  I  love 
thee."  Then  let  me  feed  his  sheep,  his  lambs, 
and  give  myself,  a  loving  gift  to  those  for  whom 
he  laid  down  his  life. 

'^ 
JUafee  ti)i6  bap  fariBfjt  boitlj  tbp  bibine  lobe 
gijeb  abroab  in  tuman  ijeacts,  0  ^abiouc  of 
tije  toorlb! 


DECEMBER   TWENTY-SIX 


HFofjn  21:  18.  "SrTerilp,  berilp,  3  gap  unto 
tijee,  JMi)en  tfjou  toast  poung.  tftou  girbebst  tf)p= 
«eU,  anb  toalfectist  toftitljer  tfjou  tooulliest:  but 
tofjcn  tfjou  sljalt  be  olb.  tfjou  sftalt  sttctcfj  forttj 
t!)p  ijantiE!,  antJ  anotJjcr  sfjall  girii  ti}tt,  anti  carrp 
tfjcc  toftitter  tf)ou  tooulliest  not. 
-^ 

YOUTH  girds  itself  while  age  is  carried. 
The  flight  of  the  days  passes  into  the  swift 
on-rushing  of  the  years,  and  at  length 
into  the  ceaseless  flow  of  eternity.  Youth 
is  not  inchned  to  consider  age:  while  the  latter 
never  ceases  to  dream  of  halcyon  days  that  are 
forever  gone.  The  Master  was  preparing  Peter 
for  the  burdens  which  he  was  preparing  for  him. 
Toil  and  service  now;  the  cross  and  the  shame,  a 
little  later  on;    and  then  —  glory. 

'^- 

Let  me  not  forget  that  there  may  be  days  to 
come  when  all  I  shall  be  able  to  bear  is  the  "cross 
that  raiseth  me":  all  I  shall  be  able  to  do  will  be 
to  surrender  to  his  sovereign  will  and  bow  beneath 
the  stroke:  all  I  shall  be  able  to  be  will  be  his 
trustful  child.  If  such  days  have  already  come 
upon  me  and  others  are  carrying  me  whither  I 
would  not;  to  hospital  or  bed  of  pain,  to  anguish  or 
loss;  God  give  me  grace  to  be  inspired  by  the  noble 
faith  and  holy  courage  of  the  saints  of  old  "to  fol- 
low in  their  train,"  and  to  see  the  eternal  weight 
of  glory  beyond  the  light  weight  of  aflliction. 

(Sicb  me.  0  tf^ob.  for  tfje  toil  of  to-bap  anb 
for  tf)c  cross  of  tomorroto!  3n  tfjine  oton  goob 
time,  troton  me  toitlj  Cljrist  in  glorp! 


DECEMBER   TWENTY-SEVEN 


3foJ)n  21 :  19.    Slnb  toten  te  tab  fipobcn  tftis, 
l)C  saitl)  unto  tjim,  jFoUotn  mc. 

]HRISTIANITY  makes  its  final  appeal  to 
men  in  the  words  of  Christ,  "Follow 
me."  Philosophies  gather  about  the 
intellectual  theories  of  their  propound- 
ers  and  confront  the  seeker  after  truth  with  many 
necessities  and  much  perplexity.  Creeds  center 
about  the  dogmatic  interpretation  of  religious 
experience  by  those  who  have  reduced  conscious- 
ness to  abstract  reality;  and  crowd  home  the 
obligation  of  assent,  not  alone  to  the  fundamental 
articles,  but  to  the  minutiae  of  the  faith. 

Jesus  simply  says  "Follow  me." 

The  one  who  follows  cannot  dictate  the  way 
upon  which  he  is  to  walk,  the  company  he  is  to 
keep,  the  progress  he  is  to  make,  the  goal  he  is  to 
attain.  All  of  these  are  in  the  keeping  of  the  One 
whom  he  follows. 

While  I  rejoice  in  all  that  the  passing  year  has 
brought  me  of  blessing  and  prosperity,  my  great- 
est delight  is  in  a  Saviour  whom  I  can  follow  all 
the  way.  Duty  has  been  clear  when  I  have 
walked  in  his  light.  Desire  has  been  sacred  when 
directed  into  his  paths.  Destiny  looms  before  me 
gloriously  as  I  follow  him  through  life's  pilgrimage 
and  at  last  come  to  the  Father's  house. 

€>  jHagter,  3  IdouIIj  folloto  tf)cc  all  tfjc  toap! 


DECEMBER   TWENTY-EIGHT 


3Iof)n  21:  20,  21.  ^etcr,  turning  about, 
sicctf)  tf)e  ijigciple  totom  jcstua  lobcb  foUotoing; 
tijfjo  also  leaneli  back  on  ftis  breast  at  ttje  supper, 
anb  iaitj,  ILorti,  tofjo  is  te  tfjat  bctrapett  tftce? 
^cter  tftcrefore  seeing  iiim  saitb  to  H^csus,  ICorlJ, 
ant)  tubat  sijall  tljis  man  lio? 

"^EALOUSY  thrives  even  in  the  soul  of  a  samt. 
Peter  heard  Jesus  say  "Follow  me,"  and  he 
began  to  look  about.  That  was  the  beginning 
JJ  of  another  undoing  for  Peter.  Poor  Simon, 
son  of  John,  he  seems  almost  always  undone! 
Praise  God  he  was  being  surely  made  into  the 
image  of  his  Master!  He  was  undone  because 
Christ  was  not  yet  done  with  him.  "What  shall 
this  man  do?"  This  attitude  of  heart  would 
have  carried  Peter  deeper  than  the  doom  of  Judas. 
Jealousy  of  John  was  "how  small  a  fire,"  but  it 
could  have  "kindled"  a  large  matter. 

What  shall  my  friend,  my  companion,  my 
neighbor,  my  rival,  my  foe  —  what  shall  this  man 
do?  His  lap  is  full  of  prosperity  while  mine 
is  empty,  it  may  be,  even  of  the  children  whom 
God  gave  and  whom  he  has  taken  away.  Let  not 
this  year's  record  be  sealed,  before  I  have  torn 
from  my  heart  the  blotted,  soiled,  disgraceful  page 
of  jealousy;  or,  better,  let  it  be  forever  covered 
with  the  forgiving  blood  of  my  loving  Saviour! 

^^ 

O  J&olp  Spirit!  ifiourisf)  toitljin  mp  fjeart 
ttje  grate  of  brotberlp  lobe  anb  beep  me  from 
jealous  bistrust  of  tJjosc  toJ)o  toalb  baitfj  mc  in 
tt)e  biap  of  life! 


DECEMBER     TWENTY-NINE 


SToftn  21:  22.  ^zsu6  gaitfj  unto  ijim,  M  31 
toill  tt)at  fjc  tarrp  till  3  tome,  tofjat  is  tjjat  to 
tljec?   jFollotD  tljou  mc. 


f — II — /HE  Master  brooks  no  interference  with 
his  holy  will.  Peter  passes  out  of  the 
Gospel  record,  a  chastened,  subdued  and 
humbled  soul.  He  emerges  into  apostolic 
history,  with  the  stature  of  a  giant.  Not  all  of 
his  infirmities  of  character  or  temperament  were 
swept  away  at  once.  Paul  had  to  withstand  him 
to  his  face.  In  it  all,  however,  a  new  soul  was 
being  born!  The  shifting  sand  was  crystalizing 
into  the  adamantine  rock.  "What  is  that  to 
thee?"  was  Jesus'  sovereign  scepter  which  he  laid 
upon  the  heart  of  Peter.  "Kneel,  Simon  son  of 
John!  thou  hast  been  Cephas,  fickle  and  jealous, 
weak  and  wavering.  Rise  up  and  'Follow  me.' 
Peter,  thou  rock!  knight  of  the  holy  cross!  herald 
of  the  holy  faith!  apostle  of  the  holy  Cathohc 
church!   Follow  me!" 

I,  too,  would  kneel  before  the  feet  of  One. 
"Kneeling  there  in  deep  contrition,"  I  will  surely 
hear  him  say,  "Rise  up,  my  forgiven,  faithful 
child!  I  knight  thee  into  the  order  of  my  holy 
cross  and  holy  crown!  I  call  thee  into  the  fellow- 
ship of  my  sufferings  and  into  the  power  of  my  res- 
urrection! I  bid  thee  forsake  all  else,  and,  until  I 
come  in  the  clouds  of  glory,  'Follow  me'!" 

-^^ 
iHlj)  gobereign  Horb!   <&ibc  mc  grace  as!  tf)p 
true  liege  bnigijt  to  folloto  ttjee  unto  tbe  enti  of 
mp  bap«! 


DECEMBER    THIRTY 


3Iol)n  21:  24.  ©bis  is  ttic  bisciple  tfjat 
beareti)  faoitness  of  tfjese  things,  anb  turote 
ttiese  tijings:  anb  toe  bnotn  ttjat  fjis  toitncss  is 
ttue. 

'HO  is  the  author  of  the  Fourth  Gospel? 
"The  apostle  John,  the  beloved  dis- 
ciple," answers  the  traditional  faith  of 
the  Church  through  all  the  centuries. 
"An  unknown  disciple,  fully  in  sympathy  with  the 
apostles  and  an  accredited  messenger  of  the  gos- 
pel," says  reverent  criticism  of  a  moderate  type. 
"A  forger  of  the  second  or  third  century,"  dogma- 
tizes the  destructive  opponent  of  the  faith.  Let 
the  Fourth  Gospel  itself  answer:  "God!"  The 
divine  Spirit,  pulsing  in  Lhe  heart  and  illuminating 
the  mind  of  a  man  produced  this  rarest  of  all 
Gospel  records. 

The  Bread  of  life,  broken  day  by  day,  within 
the  pages  of  the  Holy  Book,  has  appeased  the 
hunger  of  my  heart.  The  Good  Shepherd  has  met 
and  safe-folded  me,  the  Light  of  the  world  has 
penetrated  and  dissipated  my  darkness,  the  Vine 
has  poured  its  life  into  me,  an  abiding  branch; 
the  Lamb  of  God  has  taken  away  my  sins  and  the 
sins  of  the  world;  the  Holy  Spirit  has  become 
my  Invincible  Companion;  the  Eternal  God  has 
become  my  Redeemer  and  my  Friend. 

0  <gob,  tf)c  toitncss  of  ttjp  Maxb  is  tfjc  ligfjt  of  life: 
"Sinb  in  tfjat  Ugtjt  of  life  JI'U  toalb, 
tEill  trabeling  baps  arc  bone!" 


DECEMBER    THIRTY-ONE 


Slobn  21:  25.  Slnb  tfjerc  are  also  manp 
otljer  tfjingg  toljicfj  "Stiwi  bib,  tf)c  boticl),  if  tbep 
£i))oulb  be  tDcitten  eberp  one,  5  suppo£fe  tbat 
eben  tfje  fcoorlb  itself  tuoulb  not  contain  ti)e  booksf 
tf)at  £ttoulb  be  bicitten. 

F  making  many  books  there  is  no  end"; 
and  another  one  joins  the  ever-lengthen- 
ing procession!  There  is  but  one  Book! 
In  the  words  of  the  Fathers,  "the  heaven- 
liness  of  the  matter,  the  efTicacy  of  the  doctrine, 
the  majesty  of  the  style,  the  consent  of  all  the 
parts,  the  scope  of  the  whole,  (which  is  to  give  all 
glory  to  God,)  the  full  discovery  it  makes  of  the 
only  way  of  man's  salvation,  —  are  arguments 
whereby  it  doth  abundantly  evidence  itself  to  be 
the  Word  of  God." 

The  pages  of  the  past   I  gladly  give  into  the 
keeping  of  him  who  "is  able  to  guard  that  which 
I  have  committed  unto  him  against  that  day." 
Unafraid  and  unashamed  I  look  backward  upon 
the  year  that  is  gone,  and  see  it  covered  with  his 
forgiving  grace.     Undaunted  and  undisturbed,    I 
look  forward  to  the  days  and  years  to  come. 
"So  long  thy  power  hath  blest  me,  sure  it  still' 
Will  lead  me  on 
O'er  moor  and  fen,  o'er  crag  and  torrent,  till 
The  night  is  gone." 
Hallelujah!     The  eternal  morning  breaketh! 

Sllmigbtp  <&ob!  <girant  tfjat  tfjist  pear  begun 
anb  tontinueb  in  tfjp  fear  map  be  enbeb  in  tfjp 
fabor  tljrougf)  3^esu)S  Cljrtfiit.     iclmen. 


Date  Due 

J  A  ■■-  '   ■  ■ 

f) 

